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JLi/e and jidVentures 



of 




"The Modern Dic\ Turpin' 



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Lloyd Jones 



PUBLISHED BY 



JEWETT & LINDROOTH 



CHICAGO 



JEWETT & LlNDROOTH 

126-132 MARKET ST. 
CHICAGO 




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Book_J %Ti> _ 

Copyright N° 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



Life and Adventures 



OF 



Harry Tracy 



'The Modern Dick Turpin 3 



By 

LLOYD JONES 



Chicago 

TEWETT & LINDROOTH 

Publishers 

1902 






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COPYRIGHT BY 

Loyd Jones 



Charles O. C. Lindrooth 
1902 



PREFACE 

The life and history of Harry Tracy is one of the most 
remarkable set of incidents known in criminal history. 
His career is one of the most tragic and startling ever 
known. 

The deeds of the most remarkable characters in history, 
whose lives have been made up of daring, fortitude and 
desperation seem to pale into insignificance when re- 
viewed beside those of this desperate, courageous, and, at 
times gallant out-law. With many rewards offered for 
his body dead or alive, and thousands of desperate, well 
armed and brave and, sometimes mercenary men on the 
hunt, he preserved the most stoical heroism and indiffer- 
ence imaginable, throughout. 

• Dick Turpin may have been more gallant; Rob Roy 
more of a chevalier; the James Brothers more far-seeing 
and designing; but all the deeds of all men of this des- 
perate category seem to give way in deference to the 
adroitness of escape, desperation of chance, cleverness and 
finesse when danger was appalling, accuracy of concep- 
tion and indifference to life whether that of his own or 
that of another, exhibited by Harry Tracy. 

Knowing him as the author has for several years, and 
having occasion to defend him on the charge of murder, 
the only wonder is that his genius never took real form 
in some laudable enterprise. But there are characters 
that, when real war does not afford them the chance of 
venture and prowess, mimic war comes of their own mak- 
ing, which ends their career in infamy or consigns them 
to some self-earned obloquy; but, after all, the world 
stands in awe at this strange and startling glint of mighty 
genius. 

While the writer does not desire to hero-worship any 
who violate law, there ever will prevail that sort of secret 
adoration of courage, whether it be that of the Christian 
Martyr burning at the stake in challenged indifference to 
physical torture, the soldier on the field of carnage prod- 
igal of life, or the desperado who battles with no encom- 
iums from proud admirers to spur his ardour; and simply 
fights on to preserve a life and liberty that offers no hope 
of reward. 

In the following pages will occur a true story of Harry 
Tracy, and how his career has been marked throughout 
with deeds of desperate courage and lavish sacrifice of 



human life. A great leader in battle is also a great mur- 
derer for he views destruction of life with a half pleasure, 
and pronounces a battle, as Napoleon did, "a great game." 
The design upon life is the same. Whether soldier or 
highwayman, the competition, is wherein men are pitted 
unto death, as the "main chance" of doing to your advers- 
ary what he designs doing unto you, but do it quicker 
than he does. Indeed, business is very much like war, 
your adversary must be either captured and utilized or 
rendered hors de combat. 

Thus if we reason far enough along the lines of legiti- 
mate retributive justice, we inevitably come athwart the 
problem of whether one pirate, whether in business or war, 
is any better or worse than another. While we shun the 
reasoning that converges all enterprise, whether cornering 
wheat and starving the poor, or shooting men to gain 
liberty, into a common apex, we nevertheless reverently 
sift the quality of the man that performs the deed, and, 
whatever of it seems good we secretly cherish it and con- 
sistently rejoice in it. 

We will tell the story as it fell from his own lips — as 
we are now privileged to do so by a sacred pledge between 
man and man — and not convict and man — giving the im- 
pressions, the soliloquies and the speculations of Tracy 
as he went through the various startling phases of his 
strange career. It is impossible to imitate his peculiar 
dialectical speech, so, while using facts, the verbiage is 
that of the writer. 

The story of Harry Tracy is, after all, the history of 
events not the history of a man. It has transcended one 
man and become tragic history. Let it be read, not emu- 
lated; thought, not acted; seen, and not lived. — It is in a 
vast field of consequences out of which we may, if we 
reflect honestly, eliminate original truth and reasons. 

L. J. 

STATEMENT OP THE AUTHOR; AND CURRENT COM- 
MENTS OP NEWSPAPERS. 

I have purposed to write the true history of Harry 
Tracy, the alleged desperado and outlaw, in order to tell 
a true and clear story of law and justice as measured 
against courage and personal devotion to what a strange 
and fascinating character deemed to be his inherent 
rights. His deeds are dark and much to be deplored in 
a country of law and Christian precepts, but he instinc- 

4 



tively believed he was acting a duty. 

A man often flees from the emissaries of the law as a 
matter of precaution; but, in all the annals of heroism 
nothing stands the test as does the history of the branded 
outlaw who meets all the resources of the law, backed by 
unlimited wealth, and, with a full magazine, consisting 
of a rifle, a revolver, a knife, and unlimited courage, de- 
fies the minions of the law with perfect ease. He was 
like a mighty mountain lion — he would run if he had a 
chance, or mangle an audacious pursuer if need or pre- 
text offered itself. 

I have known this modern Dick Turpin since he was a 
mere boy. I have, from his own lips, the history of his 
early career, where the mother exerts an influence, the 
father authority, the brothers and sisters a restraint, but 
the associates a trend that makes a destiny. As some 
one has said: 

Sow a thought and you reap an act; 
Sow an act and you reap a habit; 
Sow a habit and you reap a destiny. 

Men do not reach a desperate deed at a bound. The 
stages to great crimes are by gradations quite as educa- 
tional as that of the merchant king or the marshal in 
the field. 

When Harry Tracy killed Deputy Sheriff Valentine 
Hay, in Colorado, the writer had just concluded the de- 
fense of Lee Fortune in the same State and for a like 
crime. These men were close friends, and, when Fortune 
fired upon some men who had engendered his hatred, who 
should be the supporter of his defense but Harry Tracy? 
They were both strange men, and but little known in a 
community. Lee Fortune could shoot down four men 
without compunction of conscience, and without "Malice 
aforethought." Harry Tracy could do more, and never 
swerve an inch. 

In this book I deal with a romance that shows man and 
woman at their best and at their worst, when fortitude 
is a pre-requisite. It shows the course of true and false 
courage and devotion. The whole book shows woman at 
her best; man at his worst; and both full of daring, cour- 
age, devotion, versatility and rapidity of intelligent action 
equal to anything in fiction and historical romance; and, 
so far above the average action, that soldiers, officers and 
citizens are defeated, outwitted, daunted, laughed at and 
all made as helpless as ten pins before an expert roller. 



If we admire his electric activity and conception, it is 
because we always admire fortitude, gallantry and cour- 
age. If we take him for a sort of hero, it is because we 
esteem men of fame, whether won on foot or on horse- 
back; and whether with or without law. 

While we do not encourage deeds of violence and in- 
fringements of law, we still have a secret thrill of ani- 
mation in the presence of a Master at his peculiar action, 
calling or destiny. 

It is interesting to note the comments of leading news- 
papers of the period. The author takes the privilege of 
borrowing from the Literary Digest which commented as 
follows in the issue of July 19th. A. D. 1902: 

"The old adage that 'truth is stranger than fiction' finds 
a new vindication in the wildly picturesque career of 
Harry Tracy, the escaped Oregon convict. "For deviltry 
and genuine bloodthistiness,' remarks the Richmond Dis- 
patch, 'this Western bandit is not surpassed by even 'the 
heavy villains in the modern melodramas.' ' 'As for the 
dime-novel heroes,' adds the Detroit Evening News, 'Tracy 
'beats all up to date.' ' 'He is a 'real twentieth-century 
Dick Turpin and Jack Sheppard rolled into one.' ' declares 
the New York World." 

"Rewards amounting in the aggregate to nearly $6,000 
were set on the convict's head, and as many as a thousand 
men have been in pursuit of him at one time. 'Of all the 
desperate criminals the country has ever produced,' ob- 
serves the Salt Lake Herald, 'Tracy seems entitled to the 
first rank.' 'That he should have been permitted for days 
to go and come according to his own will," declares the 
Tacoma Ledger, 'does not reflect credit on the dignity of 
this great State.' The Providence Journal says: 

" 'Criminal tho he is, he is as picturesque and fascinating 
a figure in his movements and his desperation as a noble 
hero of romance foiling the attempts of the wicked. Risk- 
ing his life in escaping from the iron and masonry of his 
prison, hunted like a wild beast by whole neighborhoods, 
now outwitting his pursuers and again fighting his way 
single-handed through a whole posse, forcing law-abiding 
citizens to feed him and carry him by water and land at 
his bidding, strewing his path with the bodies of those who 

6 



resist him, and steadily nearing the great Northwest wil- 
derness where for him is freedom, he is displaying precise- 
ly the same qualities of craft, courage, determination, 
and resourcefulness that employed in some worthy cause, 
have secured heroes their place in history. In a way we can 
not but admire such qualities, even when used against the 
peace and welfare of society, and take an instinctive 
pleasure in the narration of the exploits, however wicked, 
to which they lead, remembering how much circumstances 
instead of moral conviction have to do with giving direc- 
tion to the talents that a man possesses.' " 

"The New York Evening Journal sees in Tracy's char- 
acter the evidences of energy and absolute courage that 
might, under other and healthier conditions, have made 
him one of the most useful members of society. "Truly," 
it moralizes, "the penitentiary is a monument to the lack 
of public schools." Similarly the Minneapolis Tribune 
says: 

"It seems a pity that such nerve and desperate courage 
should be put to such a bad use, when there are Filipino 
and Moro ladrones and guerrillas to be hunted. It very of- 
ten happens that a criminal puts into his lawless vocation 
an amount of ability or heroism sufficient to make him 
rich or famous in legitimate pursuits." 



CHAPTER I. 

HOW A CELEBRATED CRIMINAL SPENT HIS 

BOYHOOD.— THE INFLUENCE OF 

ENVIRONMENTS. 



Archbishop Ireland has been accredited with 
saying: 

"Give me the care of a child until it is six 
years old, and I will tell yon what his religion will 
be." 

Some one has aptly pnt it that we learn more 
in the first six years of our lives than we do in the 
next sixty. 

It has been also said that, if you have the mater- 
nal training of a child to the tenth year you can 
have a pretty good estimate of its future. We need 
to cast no horoscope to measure something akin to 
a fatality. Ad inspired writer has said that there is 
a limit and a bound to encompass our life and deeds. 
It is suggested that man moves in a prescribed cycle 
of events that is fatality or destiny. 

However we are not about to study the heaven- 
ly and celestial sphere to astrologically know and 
measure the value of the early influences, training 

9 



and environments of Harry Tracy. Whatever we 
may say or do, events change our whole career and 
influence. One good piece of fortune, one false step, 
aye, one word might send a boy or girl out into space 
with a certainty of a denned career for better or for 
worse. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, playmates, 
teachers, yes, any person or event may do the act 
that converts an experience into a destiny. 

General Grant is authority for saying that noth- 
ing ever came to him that he sought. All tilings, he 
asserts, came by some sort of coincidents and events 
that shaped a career he had nothing to do with shap- 
ing. 

But, it is natural to soliloquize and speculate on 
the fact that it is necessary in the course of a pecu- 
liar destiny to have some one ready to take advan- 
tage of events. Grant at home when given chief com- 
mand of the armies of the Republic, may be largely 
a creature of circumstances, but there must be an 
"Unconditional" Grant to direct events after the op- 
portunity. 

Harry Tracy was born on the 24th day of Au- 
gust, A. D. 1870, in the little Hamlet of Dodge Oily, 
Kansas. His mother still resides there. It has ever 
been a town of desperate events. It was here the 
vast cow-boy raids emanated. Here the desperados 
of the border life of Kansas had a sort of haven and 
refuge. It was here at the wildest time in the history 
of the small Hamlet that Tracy first saw day. Who 



10 



will say that the events just before the year 1870 
had not a powerful inspiration in the child to be 
born? 

Harry Tracy, unfortunately, met here the cele- 
brated gambler, confidence man, and crook "Bat" 
Masterson. Tracy had an admiration for jovial and 
hilarious Masterson. The adventurer was once Sheriff 
of the the County of Tracy's nativity. He was ever 
the ideal of the adventurous youth. Later, in Denver, 
Colorado, when Tracy had developed some of his 
career, he met fC Bat" Masterson again. It is not 
known, even by Tracy, whether the professional 
"sport" knew him or not, as of former days; but, cer- 
tain it is that Tracy helped Masterson and the pic- 
turesque character "Soapey" Smith "do a turn." 
Smith, who, then, in 1894 was an interrogation point 
to all who met him, enjoyed the sobriquet of 
"Soapey," for "shady" manipulation in fancy soaps, 
wherein the investor got more "suds" than real soap. 
Thus, we may trace the subject of these pages through 
a fine matriculation for the career he followed fast 
from meeting these arch educators in the training 
school of crime. These criminals that are never 
caught are charms for young boys. Heroes to them 
need not wear epaulettes nor swords, but they must 
swear, drink, wear spurs, fight, kill and rob, but never 
be caught. 

We will endeavor to state the early impressions 
of Tracy as to his youthful career at Dodge City. He 

11 



seems to be accurate and truthful, for his aged moth- 
er, recently interviewed, corroborates his various 
statements; but does not give to her son the meed of 
bravery or honor in his recent "escapades" as she 
pronounced them. 

Having the facilities for an interview with the 
now famous desperado a few days ago, where he has 
been eluding pursuit, we reproduce his various state- 
ments taken at different times for this history; heed- 
ing the facts and hewing to the truth. He obviously, 
in no way, said anything about his career with a view 
to enlarge upon the facts, and, in a peculiarly serious 
way, with a clean almost boyish matter of fact tone, 
stated his early history as follows: 

f Tou ask me to tell you something of my do- 
mestic affairs when a 'kid ? "? Here the desperado- 
presented a broad easy smile that made his large dark 
eyes dilate, and his mouth to widen far enough to 
show a set of strong teeth apparently very firmly 
cemented into a powerful jaw. He looked simply 
amused, and had a pitying sort of expression as 
though a half apology for my ignorance of a very 
trivial subject. 

"Well," he resumed, "I was largely domesticated 
with Kansas grasshoppers, jack rabbits and prairie 
dogs. Dodge City is not much of a place. I do not 
remember much about matters there. Now. whal is 
it you want to know, and I'll try to gel at it:" 

"Oh, tell us where you lived — all about your 

12 



family — your mother, father, and the rest of them." 

''Well, as dad used to put it, we sort of 'slid 
along/ There wasn't much excitement. He and I 
and brother Jim made some one day though when we 
came to town. We lived about four miles out of the 
'Burg', and, would occasionally drive in. Sometimes 
we would drive or walk in twice a week. That is Jim, 
and I, and the old man — I mean my father — did. Jim 
was three years older than I, and a real liusky' sort 
of a chap. He could fight to 'beat the band'; I will 
tell you about it." 

"Tell me of your mother," was ventured, in or- 
der to turn his inclinations from his favorite topic. 

"Mother, well, you know she is living in a little 
house in Dodge City. Father died in 1896, when I 
was in Denver, Colorado. When dad died he was 
some in debt, as most Kansas farmers were along 
about that time. He lived on the farm when he died. 
Mother got enough out of it with a little help from 
me to buy a small cottage in Dodge City. She is 
comfortable there, isn't she?" 

Here it was explained to him that she was, but 
anxious about him. 

"Mother always stuck to her boys. The sister, 
Jane, was between Jim and me. She was a regular 
'meat ax.' Mother was always telling us boys not to 
fight, or steal or lie, but Jane would call one of us 
— Jim or I — to one side, after a little 'bout' in town 
or among the neighbors, and, with a slap on the 
shoulder say: 

13 



'Jim/ or 'Hank/ whichever it was, 'if you don't 
lick that fellow Fll go and do it myself/ 

"Well, I'd say, he's pretty 'husky/ Jane. He 
may get me under — what then?" 

"Her eyes would fairly dance in her head, and 
she'd say: 

" 'Get at him, and, Jim, or Hank, as it happened 
to be, I will be there on time.' " 

"Oh yes Jane was* a clipper. But little Rachel 
was different. She was a sort of sickly one, and we 
had to be careful of her." 

Here the outlaw showed evidences of some ten- 
der sentiment. He paused a moment, and, more de- 
liberately proceeded: 

"Rachel was our mascot. She was the charm of 
the lot. When some one was sick or Jim or I got 
into trouble it was her little feet that went over the 
prairies to see the doctor, gather herbs, see the neigh- 
bors or get the matter fixed up. Mother, you know, 
was as hard as a 'buzzard.' She would let us get out 
the best we could, or let us get well or die. Mother 
would say: 

" 'Serves you right — Try it again, will you?' " 

"But Jane would say: 

" 'Rachel run — do this — that/ and the little oih i 
was off like a shot. If she hadn't died we would have 
been different boys. She took sick with some bowel 
trouble. You ought to have seen how good she was. 
She wanted to help us when we all stood around her 

14 



little bed expecting her to die. She said we would 
all see her again, and a lot of things, that was pretty 
tough to hear. She was only twelve when she died. 
I never seen Jim or dad cry before. I think it took 
the old man down. I left home and went to Denver 
soon afterwards. The old ranch was dry enough 
place before little Each el died; but, after that riding 
the range and going to town was no fun, for we did 
not have her to talk to about our troubles. Jane was 
a good girl, and mother always stuck up for us, but 
little 'Kachie' was the pet. I used to call her our 
Sunflower. Jane soon married a rancher near there, 
and is as happy as they make them. Does she know 
my fix?" he suddenly asked. 

f Tes," was the answer. 

"What did the old girl say?" he asked half curi- 
ously, with another broad smile. 

"She said," was the guarded reply, "that all the 
sheriffs in Christendom couldn't get Hank." 

Here Tracy indulged in a hearty laugh, which 
was by no means an unpleasant indication of mirth. 
Then, looking carefully around, tightening his grasp 
on his rifle, which he never relinquished, he proceeded 
seriously and with evident concern: 

"By the way, little Eachel, our little mascot, was 
buried in the small churchyard just outside the town. 
I sent money to put up a small slab of marble there. 
Do you know if it is there?" 

He was assured that it was and bore the date and 



15 



name as he had requested. He got the exact epitaph 
and seemed much pleased. 

"Rachel was a good Catholic. She gave me her 
prayer book the day she died. Fm afraid I have made 
poor use of it; but, I carried it always until June 9th, 
when Dave Merrill and I made our break from that 
hot-house in Salem. I tried to get it, but did not 
have time. I would have killed one more guard to 
get it, Pardner." 

This last he said with the most matter of fact man- 
ner and intonation. 

"Is there no way I can get that book?" 
He was assured that an effort would be made to 
obtain the book. This more than pleased him. He 
was about to extend his hand, but seemed to remem- 
ber, and look at that stained member, as though ru- 
minating as to whether if proffered it would be ac- 
cepted; then he hastened to say: 

"Pardner, if you'll get that book, Pll do you most 
any favor. Little Rachie's picture is pasted inside on 
the cover. Pd go across the Range to get it. I must 
have dropped it in my hurry to get off that clay." 

"Well, you were about to tell a while ago about 
some escapades you had with your brother Jim," was 
suggested. 

At once the desperado began to animate. This 
was the peculiar line of pleasure in discourse he en- 
joyed. 

For a moment he even forgot his rifle or to shift 



16 



the arsenal he had about his waist. His voice became 
louder and harsher as he proceeded: 

"Father was a good shot. He nsed to 'whig* any- 
thing on the plains. Besides, if the old man had a 
good chance he would 'turn a trick' that would knock 
Jim and I out of time. One day he came home with 
a fine brace of birds. We asked him where he got 
them, and he told us where. It was about 20 miles out 
in a sort of creek or swail. He did not think we would 
go there; but Jim and I had each a good horse, and 
the next afternoon went to the spot he told us about. 
We knew the fellows who owned the quarter there. 
In fact there were several boys and the old man, and 
they had several quarters near there that they farmed 
a little. These fellows were called the Sutton Broth- 
ers. They were all ages from 16 to 30. The young- 
est, Bob, was just my age. We had some 'skirmishes' 
with the boys before this, and I told Jim we better 
keep off their land. Jim was in for birds, and didn't 
care if a light went along, and said: 

'Hang it, Hank, let's show dad what we can do. 
If we get into a scrap we'll clean them all out.' 

"Well Eachel was living then and I didn't care 
for trouble. She had lots of influence that way, 
Pardner. But Jim got me persuaded to go. So 
Jim and I rode into the cotton and Osage brush, 
and, when we heard some ducks we tied our 
horses and sneaked along. We got near a sort of 
pond. There, sure enough were ducks, and lots of 

17 



them, but no wild ones. Well, ducks and water came 
pretty high in them parts of Kansas, and Jim and I 
concluded we'd get some ducks. We got up pretty 
close, when, all of a sudden, 'bang' went a gun. It 
was a shot gun, and we knew the voice of the old 
'blunderbuss.' Dad was there ahead of us. Quick as 
a flash, out of the brush, swish went a lasso. We 
could see the old man, and, he drew the three fat 
clucks to shore. Just then we could hear the noise 
of the Sutton Brothers coming that way; and, from 
the sound knew that several of them were on horse- 
back. Jim was 'nervie,' and yelled out: 

'Get on your horse, dad, quick. We'll keep them 
off. . Take the poultry along.' 

"The old man gave one grin at us. We saw him 
off with the three fat young ducks. But the Sutton 
boys saw him just before he struck the ravine that 
led out on the plains. Ben Sutton, the oldest of the 
boys, was the first — Dan and Bill next — each on a 
good horse. Some 1,000 yards back came old man 
Sutton riding a mighty good horse, and yelling like 
a tiger. I says: 

'Jim, we got to get the old man out somehow! 
'Let me draw a bead on Ben!' Jim was a good 
shot, and, was just going to do the act that would 
'put out' the 'heir apparent' as they say, whoii 1 
thought of what Each el said just as we started: 

'Now, boys, don't get into trouble'; so I said 
quick: 

18 



'No, Jim, drop his horse and I will old Sutton's. 
That will bring them all to a stop!' 

"No sooner said than done. Young Ben was fast 
getting beyond our range, and would soon be in sight 
of Dad, who was keeping out of sight along the ravine 
as much as possible. The crack of Jim's rifle was fol- 
lowed by a complete mix-up. Young Ben's horse 
keeled clear over and Dan's awkward old plug fell 
over him. Bill was always a coward, and stopped 
short. I had a good crack at old Ben Sutton's horse. 
He was real close, and going like the wind. You 
would have laughed to see old 'whiskers' turn those 
prairie summersaults. We did not stop to see any 
more. Ike and Dave Sutton were mounted on saw- 
horses, and stopped to dust the old man off. Jim and 
I skulked to our horses — mounted and rode down the 
ravine in an opposite direction, as fast as we could 
go." 

"Along about ten that night we got home. 'Mam' 
had pork and beans for supper. Dad winked, and 
asked if we would have another leg of duck, as he 
passed the fat pork. After 'Mam' and Eachel went to 
bed Jane gave us another supper. It tasted like 
duck." 

"Well, we had lots of such scrapes, but we were 
a little afraid of the sheriff this time. However, we 
heard nothing about this for four days; but, when, on 
the next Saturday night we went to town, we saw 

19 



the Suttons there eight strong. I was mighty glad 
that Eachel stayed at home and Jane came along." 

"What followed? There was more fighting there 
than you could have seen when I took French leave 
of my 'grill-work' home in Salem. Dad pulverized 
both old Ben and young Ben. I took a hand at all 
of them with a not over smooth osage club. Jim 
hammered up Dan and Ike with naked fists and gave 
Bill, the tame one, a rear-end collision that made 
him walk home. However, the fight never disclosed 
the whereabouts of some ten ducks that were missing. 
Jane using an ugly whip-stock made me laugh so in 
the fight that I most forgot my position in the ring, 
and, when I 'came to' young Dave Sutton was giving 
it toi dad in the 'slats,' while the old man was extract- 
ing young Ben's front teeth. I did a mean trick, I 
gave him the osage branch side-ways. The Town 
Marshal didn't interfere till then, and I had to give 
him one for the sake of argument. This last deal 
was what got us into trouble. Dad said I ought not 
to have taken a 'rap' at the law. I had to go to 'cover' 
a few weeks. Jane knew where I was. "We had a 
sort of armistice with the Town Marshal while little 
Eachel was sick, and, until she was buried. Then I 
dug out. I didn't care to stay anyhow after phe died. 
I have never been back." 



20 



CHAPTEE II. 

WHEREIN THE ATTORNEY EOR HARRY TRACY 
TELLS THE STORY OF HIS FIRST MUR- 
DER.— AND WHERE HE REJOICES IN 
VICTORIES OVER THE MINIONS 
OF THE LAW. 



"Say, Pardner, if I should be gathered in to make 
up the majority, would you see to it that, if it is pos- 
sible, I am buried beside little 'Rachie'? It wouldn't 
hurt her, and I know she'd say she'd like to have me 
if she were where she could speak for herself." 

He was assured that any reasonable request 
would be granted. W r ith that he half slid and half 
stepped down from the rough granite boulder upon 
which he sat, as, upon one beautiful August morning 
he was interviewed further as to his experiences. He 
showed some weariness, but was easy and resolute in 
every movement; and, though the writer had seen 
much of him in 1896 and 1897, he showed little evi- 
dence of hard usage. He still had the strong shoul- 
ders, the long muscular arms, the thin but sinewy 
legs and undaunted eye. Everything about the man 
reminded one of the frame and appearance of the 

21 



world's most famous pugilist Robert Fitzsimmons. 
Not so large as the pugilist, but a man of his equal 
in every way for endurance, activity, dexterity, keen- 
ness and courage. What would these men have been, 
if, like Le Febvre the illiterate but great soldier, 
whom the mighty Napoleon made Marshal of France! 
Possibly these men are born to peculiar vocations. 
Possibly not. 

He came close up to my side, as I sat cross-legged 
on a heavy blanket he used to make me an improvised 
editorial "sanctum." I had no fear of him but could 
see from where I sat two other forms rise to view, 
no doubt thinking their leader and hero. was in some 
way alarmed, when he made this sudden movement. 
I knew before this occurence I was watched, for Harry 
Tracy trusted no one — not even the men who had 
given him freedom or protected his life. He said in 
low tones — not intending them for any one else: 

"If you will do what I ask you I will give you a 
secret that you can turn to account." 

"I will do all I can for you." 

"Good," he replied. "Now, if I am picked off 
here in the Hills the body will make food for wolves, 
but, a good smart fellow like you can 'plant' me in 
the hills and take me back to Dodge City later. What 
do you say?" 

"I will do the best I can for you," was again of- 
fered as an assurance. 

"That* is well enough. Now, Pardner, I place 

22 



more trust in you than any one else, on account of 
that affair of Deputy Sheriff Valentine Hay of Colo- 
rado. You got me out of that easy. Now, you do 
this for me, and I will leave you in a way you can use 
it, all the wealth you can ever want. I have been 
very active in my day. I dare not trust my secrets to 
pals, for they might want money more than they would 
my society; see! I will fix it and have an agreement 
with you. I will show you just how to get the 'easy 
money/ only you bury me near the little Sunflower 
and take care of another — besides mother. I will 
show you how I mean co secure you/' 

At present we will drop the narrative of Tracy 
as to his wealth, for that will occupy future chapters 
of interesting romance, and proceed to relate the 
events leading up to the murder of Deputy Sheriff 
Valentine Hay. The capability of the man — trusting 
no one — would grace the pages of the Arabian Nights. 

The facts being particularly within the knowl- 
edge of the writer as to the murder of Hay, the main 
incidents will be rehearsed; but, some names and 
facts must be eliminated from the recital for various 
reasons. It was in 1887 that Harry Tracy first came 
to Denver, Colo. He was then quite a young boy. 
He was( engaged at a livery stable for some time. He 
worked at various occupations, but spent a great deal 
of time in idleness and about saloons of the "shadier" 
character. He seldom drank, and never got drunk. 
He was often in requisition, with the men and women 

23 



of questionable character. He soon became known as 
rather a clever "crook." In 1894 he became involved 
in one of "Soapey" Smith's "smooth" ventures. Smith, 
whose real name was Jefferson Randolph Smith, was 
one of the most artistic confidence men of the West. 
It was a well known fact in Denver and throughout 
the West that Smith never got into trouble himself, 
but always "worked" the "smooth" games for others 
' — always keeping clear of any expose or personal 
danger. 

He was properly named "Soapey." Tracy became 
his ardent pupil, and from 1892 until Smith was 
killed at Skagway, Alaska, in 1896, Tracy was much in 
his company. Harry Tracy returned to Denver after 
having his skirts cleared of the venture with Smith, 
in 1894, and was soon joined by his brother Jim, who 
was a confirmed desperado. Jim however, was not of 
the character designed to be a safe companion as he was 
then too much of a blatant and noisy rogue. On the 
other hand Harry was a very quiet and skilful accom- 
plice. Jim had just returned from the Facific Slope 
— possibly for personal safety. The two boys came 
and went about Denver and were known to the de- 
tectives and police as "dangerous men." Often they 
were suspected, but no arrests of any consequence 
were made until the spring of 1897. Prior to ihaf 
time Harry spent some time on a ranch near Helena, 
and worked in restaurants and mines until certain 
matters would clear up about Denver. 



The two brothers joined "Soapey" Smith some 
time in the fall of 1895 at or near Seattle, and, went 
to Alaska, where it is believed by some, Jim is now; 
but it is definitely known that Jim is quite near his 
brother "Hank," and was party to his escape, on June 
9th, 1902. When "Soapey" Smith was killed, Jim 
and Harry Tracy were present and took an active part 
in the affray. It is believed, and, no doubt is true, 
that Smith's usual deftness and precaution was dis- 
armed by Jim Tracy's braggart and noisy manner. 
Jim never returned to Denver, Colorado; but Harry 
had met a very estimable young woman in Denver; 
and, after Smith was killed, he escaped the officers, 
who were hunting him for the purpose of having an 
impromptu hanging at Skagway, Alaska, and boldly 
made his appearance again in Denver, in the spring of 
1807. 

In the next chapter, which should in point of 
date, precede this, the tragic event at Skagway will be 
related in Tracy's own words. As his movements in 
1894 and 1895 are related to what occurred in Alaska 
in 1896 and what thereafter took place in Oregon in 
1898 when he was sentenced to the Salem Peniten- 
tiary for 20 years on a conviction for robbery and as- 
sault, we will relate the killing of Hay first. 

Valentine Hay was a detective and thereafter 
was made a deputy sheriff. He was a man of good 
courage, but less judgment. He conceived the idea, 
which might have been correct, that many of the hold- 

25 



ups and burglaries perpetrated about then so common 
in Denver, were the work of Jim and Harry Tracy, 
and under their directions. Such men as "Soapey" 
Smith, "Denver Ed. Smith," "Con" Patterson and a 
brace of others of the most skilful and desperate men 
of the West were the associates of the Tracys. Rob- 
beries were constantly being planned by this combi- 
nation. 

A grocery store was an objective point on one 
evening, and, here is where Valentine Hay ventured to 
engage some of the most complete men at their trade 
in the world. 

It suffices to say that, when Hay attempted to 
make his arrest he was shot and killed. 

Who killed Deputy Sheriff Hay? The writer is 
not inclined to tell. At this time it must not be ven- 
tured by any one to asseverate, for when the trial of 
Harry s Tracy was had, proof was too feeble to convict, 
and. he was acquitted. 

When Harry Tracy was going out of the Court 
Room, after his discharge, he turned to the writer 
and said: 

"I have no money now, but I will see that you 
are paid." 

I knew his money secured in Alaska had been 
secreted on account of rigid investigations from there. 
though he had used some freely. Less than a year 
thereafter, while the writer was at Cripple Creek, Colo- 
rado, a messenger arrived at the Hotel where he \\a- 

26 



and delivered a sealed package. It was a fulfillment 
of Harry Tracy's promise. His wealth acquired in 
Alaska had come in play.. Had Florence Corson mar- 
ried him then no doubt he would have subsequently 
acted differently. 

A reporter for the Eocky Mountain News ap- 
proached Tracy as he was shaking hands with his pals 
and fellow defendants in the court room, after the 
trial, and said: 

"Well, gentlemen, you are declared f not guilty/ 
Have you anything to say of the verdict?" 

Harry, who was ever ready with a novel retort; 
and, who, by the way, could always pass a good joke, 
in the midst of the most desperate events, said while 
a dry smile went over his peculiar features: 

"Well, I tell you, twelve men have said that we 
are innocent, but you can say that Harry Tracy is 
inclined to believe that the whole twelve were mis- 
taken." 

The reporter was encouraged for a sensation, and 
continued with reporter persistence: 

ff You could, then, tell who killed Valentine 
Hay?" 

"Well, friend, you must decide for yourself, but, 
if you haven't got that far along yet, I would advise 
you to say that Yalentine Hay is dead enough, and 
Harry Tracy is still alive, and will be heard of later." 



27 



CHAPTEE III. 

IN THIS CHAPTER WE WILL TELL OF EVENTS 

EAELIEE IN POINT OF TIME THAN THE 

MUEDEE OF HAY.— EELATION OF 

MATTEES IN ALASKA.— DEATH 

OF 'SOAPEY' SMITH.— A FEAE- 

FUL BATTLE, WHEEEIN 

JIM AND HAEEY TEACY 

TEIUMPH. 



It will be remembered that Harry Tracy met a 
young woman at Denver, earlier than the date of his 
departure for Alaska with his brother Jim, "Soapey" 
Smith and others. When Smith was killed Harry 
came back to Denver — more especially to meet his 
sweetheart, who had remained constant to him dur- 
ing his departure which only lasted a few months. 
He came back with an abundance of money. He 
tried to lavish his wealth upon his devoted fiancee. 
She declined to take his money, without he could say 
that it was honestly earned. 

It soon developed that it was not honestly earned, 
and he and his raw gold had to go into hiding several 
times. 



28 



Harry Tracy would not tell her it was honestly 
earned, for, he was always truthful, unless in extrem- 
is, and he would say: 

"Florence, no money is ever honestly obtained. 
I may say; i stand and deliver/ but the other fellow 
says, 'keep moving and I will deliver you.' " 

Florence Corson, who always stood above re- 
proach would reply: 

ec l recognize the difference between stealing as a 
thief, and stealing as a business proposition." 

"I don't/ 5 would come the laconic reply. "All 
thieves are alike to me. I prefer the open thief 
though." 

The writer knew Harry Tracy after his return 
from Alaska, as heretofore related, and prior to his 
departure for Alaska. "Soapey" Smith was so well 
known that he was watched with interest by all; and, 
he was known of all, 

"We will tell the story of the experience in the 
Territory in Tracy's way. When asked to relate it 
his eyes dilated and he at once became animated. As 
he sat on a granite boulder in the wild hills, with the 
rushing sounds of the Columbia Eiver in our ears, he 
said: 

"The trip to Alaska was taken to 'shake' a few 
of the pages and associates of 'ancient history' in 
and around Colorado. Jim had plenty of trouble just 
hatching. I was a little afraid of old Banker Dave 
Moffatt. I put onto him a 'game' that made him sick. 

29 



He reported that he lost money. This happened when 
I was green in the business, but I had good help. I 
will tell you Dave Moffatt, the millionaire President 
of the First National Bank of Denver lost ten times 
what he reported. Jim knows all about it. "Soapey" 
Smith planned the scheme. No one knew Smith was 
in the city at the time but three of us. We laughed 
at MofTatt's statements. He never did admit the 
whole truth, and had a lot of fellows arrested to con- 
ceal the real facts. But, after a while Moffatt got a 
half-witted detective working. I am more afraid of 
fools and women than' I am of gattling guns in full 
play. Please excuse me. I saw that the atmosphere 
was 'murky.' ■ If I had only one trouble I could 'tilt' 
it, but I had others. I was no coward, but I believe 
in being safe. I, like other fellows, have the panic 
feeling. Do you know that one will often run from 
his shadow? We are all cowards at times," 

"But, I was going to tell of our trip to Alaska, 
and how we came back. Of course you know I was 
'stuck' on Florence Corson. It was a wonder she 
liked me, for her people were pious and did not like 
my way of doing. Poor Florence, she did her best for 
me, and lately has been a mighty good help. I ought 
to have treated her better." 

"Well, when things looked sort of diagonal for 
me in Denver I told "Soapey" Smith I thought I bet- 
ter 'weigh anchor.' He talked about 'nerve,' and 
roasted me, but finally people began to associate him 

30 



with some nasty, things, and he changed his mind and 
he proposed we go to Alaska — saying to me for the 
first time that he was all ready to go. Smith was a 
peculiar fellow — he was the 'smoothest* man I have 
ever met. He was rather tall, wore a double-breasted 
Prince Albert coat — talked slow, and, in every way 
was a quiet religious man. I believe he always prayed 
for success just before he was after the other fellow's 
wealth. Smith arranged so Jim and I could meet him 
at Seattle. We took the same boat, but never con- 
versed or recognized each other, as all boats had a 
quota of 'plain clothes' men on to 'tab' the 'cons' and 
'cop' the 'fuges.' When we got to Skagway we soon 
struck up acquaintance with the Eev. Smith. He be- 
haved the parson to the 'dot/ " 

"The town was mad on 'prospects,' 'claims' and 
'discoveries.' Eeally, I never saw so much gold and 
so little good clean cash. You would have to give a 
wash basin full of 'sand' for a 'nigger's breakfast.' I 
saw at once that a good lot of the 'stuff' back in the 
States would land one on 'easy street.' Besides, I had 
left Florence there, and I brooded over wealth to 
make her happy. As I have told you she would not 
use my ill gotten wealth. I soon found that a quart 
of 'booze' such as they sold there would put any man 
in the 'dumps'. So Smith, Jim and I proceeded to dig 
the wealth out of other fellows' pockets instead of dis- 
turbing the earth around the hills. We got more clean 
gold than we knew how to safely handle. Some of this 

31 



is for you, Pardner, if you will do the right thing by 
me. I have had to 'plant' some stuff when in trouble. 
It soon became known that 'Soapey' Smith owned the 
town in joint ownership with his c pals'. A great many 
mean threats went the rounds, and, Smith got a chal- 
lenge to go to Tom Sikes' saloon to answer to his super- 
vision of the town. It was a shock to Smith, for he was 
practically Mayor of the town. He assessed and collect- 
ed, but did not freely distribute. There's where he 
made a mistake. He got gold crazy. He must have 
had $10,000,000 of f dust' and nuggets at this time. 
He had always been a good 'divider' before, but now 
even the sports got sore on him. I am the only one who 
now knows where that stuff is located. I got all of his 
papers, trunks &c, and know all of his wealth." 

"When I saw the message to Smith I was alone in 
our cabin. I at once got my weapons ready. I knew it 
meant business. In a few moments Jim came in. He 
was excited and at once said: — 

"*Hank, I had a row at Sikes' place. I knocked 
Frank Seers down, and as there was a gang of them I 
pulled my gun. As most of the fellows are from the 
States, they proposed that Seers and I fight it out with 
our fists. We went into the lot just back of Bikes', 
and there we had a c bout'. I gave Seers one swing on the 
jaw and he fell asleep. He ought to have known better, 
eh, Hank?' " 

"Did they let you alone then?" 

32 



"No, Al Brown wanted to fight. I told them, as 
I had no friends there I preferred to put it off till to- 
morrow. They all fixed the hour at three o'clock, but 
said they had a score with Smith that must be settled 
to-night. So I told them I would accommodate them 
to-night at old Sikes' place." 

"What seemed to be the matter with them?" 

"Well, Hank, when we got that bunch out of the 
three Irishmen suspicion rested on us, and Smith was 
not in good odor before." 

"Do they want Smith to fight?" 

"I believe if we go there tonight we must fight at 
the drop of the hat." 

"Then we shall be ready." 

"Yes, and they will be ten to one." 

"The next hour Jim and I devoted our time to 
our weapons. I always liked a rifle, so I got my pet gun 
ready, two revolvers and a couple of good knives. Just 
as we got through Smith came home in dreadful excite- 
ment and bleeding from an ugly cut on the head. He 
was in a boiling passion. He had been set upon by 
toughs and hoodlums,and nearly killed. He had shot 
two, and a mob assembled, all crying against Smith. I 
did not relish the situation; for a whole camp of des- 
perate miners knew no bounds and we were now beyoud 
the hope of mercy. Smith said in great excitement: — 

"Let's prepare to defend ourselves at once." 

"No," I replied, "get your guns ready and we will 

33 



go to Tom (Sikes' saloon before they have time to or- 
ganize." 

"Hank is right/' said Jim. 

"Smith agreed, and in five minutes we were on 
the way." 

"One could see as we went along that there was 
'something doing.' I did not relish the job." 

"I saw we must do a lot of killing. 'Game' was all 
that would save us. Sikes' saloon was full when we went 
in. We went to the bar and ordered drinks; but Bill 
Farrill one of the bar-tenders said: — 

" 'No, you fellows can't have a d — d drop here.' " 

"'Bully for you,'" yelled several of the crowd." 

"Jim was never cool; and, though several hollered 
on Smith for a 'speech' — ! — 'explain or fight,' and a 
whole lot of insults; and, I believe, as smooth as Smith 
was he could have cooled them down. Jim, being 
pretty full of 'squirrel whiskey' landed a big mug full 
of stuff, another fellow had ordered, as a 'bracer,' 
square in the middle of Farrill's face. Between the 
glass, the poison and the blood the big 'mickey' pre- 
sented an awful 'front.' " 

"This opened the fight. I always believed Tom 
Sikes incited the trouble, and I arranged his estate for 
an administrator at once. 'Soapey' was so surprised 
he did not begin killing till I and Jim had cleared out 
one end of the saloon. But "Soapey" Smith was game 
to the core. The old Prince Albert coat went flying, 
and the Parson waded in. Then you should have seen 

34 



Smith pick them aff. Fll bet he killed ten fellows in 
less than eight seconds. They dropped like ten pins." 

"It was the best game I had ever seen, and I will 
never forget it. I knew that distance was best for me, 
and backed off to the rear door. I hadn't fired a shot 
from my rifle as yet. It was well I had used close range 
weapons, for Jim and Smith got so excited they closed 
right in on the gang. Both fell ten feet from the front 
entrance. Well, I thought, Fll die game, so I stood 
perfectly still — took deliberate aim, and I never wasted 
a shoot. I poured in some seventeen. Not a man able 
to crawl remained in the saloon. It was a sight. My 
crack shooting was what told. What was alive ran 
everywhere to get out of range of my rifle. The floor 
was covered with dead men, revolvers, knives and other 
weapons. I at once got hold of Jim. He had only a 
glance' shot on his head. He was 'groggy' but soon 
got square on his legs. Just then a dozen desperate 
fellows came in at the back door. Jim and I poured 
into them. They never had time to shoot a load. Had 
they known what was really up they never would have 
put their heads into that arsenal. That was all. We 
were in undisputed possession of the place." 

"We picked Smith up. We at once saw that he 
was dead. Three bullets had gone clear through his 
left breast. In spite of the danger Jim and I carried 
Smith's body to our cabin. That night we buried him 
on the hillside. We did not know what minute we 
would be attacked, but, with the use of matches I read 

35 



a prayer from little Kachie's book, and left him in the 
ground. Jim and I felt pretty bad, but I am a peculiar 
fellow. I get ready for a fight at once and forget every- 
thing else. But, anyone knowing 'Soapey' Smith had 
to like him. He was the coolest and strongest fellow 
that 'ever came down the range/ We were surprised 
not to be attacked that night, but, the truth is, we had 
so paralyzed the whole crowd that no one ventured to 
show himself. I am told twenty six were killed and 
eighteen wounded. The next day there was great pre- 
paration, but Jim and I were gone. We had secured 
all the loose gold — amounting to over $100,000, and I 
had the knowledge of where Smith's enormous wealth 
was located. This is in part what I want to disclose 
to you." 

"I soon found my way back to Denver, but Jim 
preferred the Pacific border to anywhere else, and we 
parted company when safe away from the scene of our 
great battle." 

"I had no occasion to rob small grocery stores or 
hold up pedestrians in Denver when I got back; and, 
if Valentine Hay and his ilk had let me alone I would 
have settled down. Florence was some to blame too. 
She ought to have married me then. That would have 
kept me out of trouble. But the fate of Smith and a 
whole lot of extravagant tales got on foot, and Hay 
dogged me everywhere. If Florence had not been 
poisoned by these stories I would no doubt have allowed 

36 



Hay to live longer; but, I saw he was constantly seek- 
ing his fate and he's 'With the angels now.' " 

"I soon left Denver after Hay's death, but was 
arrested and brought back for trial. After my acquit- 
tal, as you remember I was everywhere, and, in 1898 
appeared at San Francisco. I had resolved to live a 
good square life, and, sent for Florence. She had con- 
cluded that good or bad I was the only man. We were 
married, and our arrangements made for a respectable 
fortune. But a fellow that likes adventure will slant 
off on small provocation. Now, I'll tell you how I 
commenced to go wrong again." 



37 



CHAPTER IV. 

TRACY SEPARATES FROM FLORENCE CORSON. 

—ROBS WITH PAT CROWE, IS 

CAUGHT AND LOCKED UP. 



"I told the little girl I would not use any of the 
money I brought from Alaska after she got to San Fran- 
cisco/' 

"You know how sweet a fellow is on a pretty girl 
like that; but, do you know, Pardner, that often the 
boat we get into to save us from the bottom has a leak 
and will spring it in deeper water and farther from 
shore. I did my best to be square." 

"Of course I bought a restaurant furnished and 

stocked it new at No. street, San Francisco, 

with the wealth of the north. But she said, not to use 
any to support us 'after she got there.' " 

"She wrote in this way to me from Denver, just a 
short time before she started: — 

" f Do not use any money, not honestly earned, 
after I get to you. I do not believe there is any luck 
in illgotten gains.' " 

"We differ," resumed Tracy with a smile, "but I 
went straight into business. Tracy's Place became pop- 

38 



ular everywhere. We had a good trade and the best 
people. The little girl went behind the cashier's coun- 
ter, and attended to that end, and I did the ordering 
and saw to the general business. I never lost a minute 
from business." 

"But, do you know that I made a mistake to have 
my wife there. She was very handsome, and, at times 
I did not like to see men stop so long making change. 
I began to think of taking a shot at some one, and sort 
of began to lianker' after getting my 'mit' on some of 
'SoapeyY and my wealth in Skagway. However I 
played square till one unlucky day. I am going to tell 
you about it." 

"At this time the soldiers were much in town and 
quite an excitement going on. I would be off duty a 
part of the time, and my wife would be off duty always 
between 3 and 5 in the afternoon. I was told later 
that Florence would meet some of those 'fly guys/ and 
especially a certain Captain, in the parks, afternoons. 
I had suspected her, but only a little, as I get into a 
white heat when the game shows foul." 

"You have heard of 'Pat' Crowe. He was one of 
my 'star' boarders — Ate all that was going, and paid 
when he got ready. Well, I knew he would turn a 
'trick' after a few days, and knew he would come up 
with a 'mint' under his arms later. He was a square 
and clever fellow." 

'Tor several days a fellow by the name of Cudahy 
took his meals with us; and, soon took a whole lot of 

39 



time talking to Florence. She since told me he was 
proposing a mining scheme, and wanted me to look after 
his mine as manager. Florence he wanted to superin- 
tend supplies for the men. This seems true, but the 
soldiers were too 'previous' too — What did it mean?" 

"Now, Pardner, a fellow who holds up a train is 
an 'awful fellow/ but a 'hash' dispenser is not in it." 

"One Saturday afternoon Tat' and I watched 
Florence go out to the Park. We saw her meet Cudahy. 
'Pat' went back to the Eestaurant to look innocent, and 
I hurried to our home to get my 'squirrel chaser.' I 
still kept all my old weapons. I never kept a weapon 
at the Eestaurant, as I knew my failings." 

"I could have mashed Cudahy then and there with 
my hands, but I like a complete 'finisher' when I begin 
to paint 'red'; so I went to the house, only four blocks 
away. 1 got back, but the birds had flown. She came 
back to the restaurant, but she might have gone to get 
a wreck wagon. I did not leave a thing whole. She 
fainted away and had to be carried home. They say 
she most died. If I had not been told by Crowe that 
Cudahy had taken a train north to Portland, I would 
have wrecked the house too. I would not have killed 
Florence. I never war on women; I want the man, 
not the weak woman." 

"Pardner, that was the blackest day of my life. 
It was worse than hell." 

"Tatf shoved me on the next train. I had all 
my weapons, but forgot to get a good supply of cash. 

40 



I knew Crowe was ^broke' for he had been going his 
'face' at my place for some weeks." 

"I shared my wealth with Tatf and he, full of ad- 
venture, was only too glad of a chance to he on the war 
path. Cudahy had suspected trouble, and went that 
night to Omaha. So we were on the wrong trail. I 
am glad he got off, for I may be mistaken about Flor- 
ence, for she has been all right since, so they say; and, 
well, the Tiash slinger' got to be brigand again, and 
girls like fighters. Women are not looking for Sun- 
day School Superintendents for husbands. They want 
grit and display." 

"A woman is not perfect. Florence may have 
seen more in soldier clothes than a white apron. A 
gun or knife looks better than a plate and a napkin. 
I may have been outclassed by the soldier or old Cud- 
ahy's smooth ways." 

"That trip north with Tat' Crowe was something 
awful. If I had caught my man I could have cooled 
off; but he was gone, and here we were broke, and 
no friends. I cursed Tatf for not using good judg- 
ment. He said he had been deceived, and that was 
all. He cursed our luck, too, for Tatf liked a good 
stiff game when the other fellow was to blame." 

"To show you how Tat' and the other fellows 
got even for me you will remember the kidnapping 
of Cudahy's boy some time ago. That evened up a 
little. It's my turn next to get even on the old 
score." 



41 



"It was night when we got to Portland. We in- 
quired at all Hotels for Cudahy. In a short time we 
ran onto a fellow from Trisco' who told us he had 
seen Cudahy buy his ticket and get on a train for 
Omaha. This was too bad. I stood on the streets, 
gun in hand, and felt that again Harry Tracy was 
knocked out. I grew desperate." 

"I must do something desperate or burst. I said 
to Crowe: 

"Tat' can you turn a trick? I am broke. We 
are here stranded. We must get money." 

"I see no way out," he answered. 

"Just across the street was a fine looking restau- 
rant. It was just such a place as mine was in 'Frisco/ 
and I was always in for looking for my jacknife where 
I lost it, and said: 

"Let's go in over there and have supper." 

"We have no money," he said. 

"We have plenty of gall. All a man needs in this 
country is one lung, a good 'reach' and four galls," I 
answered." 

"He knew what I meant, and we went into the 
restaurant, ordered a big meal and went at it." 

"I had not drank a drop for a long time, and, 
what we ordered from the bar got to circulating 
around in my head. A little whiskey is a bad side- 
partner, when you are already in bad company. The 
'booze* began to dance a 'Virginia Reel' with old Cud- 
ahy among the rafters of my upper story, and, when 

42 



the waiter brought in the bill — which I can distinctly 
remember was $7.50, I was in fine trim. It made me 
smile to think how like 'thirty cents' the bill would 
look when we paid it." 

"What do yon propose"? Pat asked. 

"See the woman cashier?" 

"Yes," says he. 

"Well she looks like my wife. I'll levy tribute 
on her to get even." 

"What of the boss near her?" asked Pat. 

"Lock the front door — march all into the 
kitchen — You get the cash of the woman, and I'll 
hold the gang till you get there." 

"Are you read)'?" he said. 

"Yes." 

"We got up from our chairs. I went up to the 
desk of the cashier. Pat was close by. I set my gun 
close to me took out a revolver and pointing it at 
the man said: 

"I want the key to your front door at once." 

"He knew what was up. The woman was close 
to Tat' who said: 

"Young woman, if you move or make a noise you 
will get hurt." 

"I always put women off on the other fellow. I 
hate to kill women or kittens." 

"I locked the front door put the key in my pocket, 
and, seeing the two waiters who were the only ones 
in the room, besides a dozen guests — It being a little 

43 



late as we had been a long time at supper, looking 
at us, I said to Tat': 

"I'll see to these 'hashers' and you relieve the 
till." 

"I walked back to the first fellow, who had his 
mouth wide open and said: 

"Come, f pal,' we've bought out the place, and I 
want to speak to you waiters. He went along like 
a 'wahoo.'" 

"The other waiter followed his nose, out of curi- 
osity. The whole thing was too cool to cause suspi- 
cion. Tat' gave a whistle while I was talking to the 
waiters, and, excusing myself from the dozen people 
in the kitchen walked down in front. Tat' had $165 
in cash. I believe there was more, but the woman 
was clever. I unlocked the door, and Tat' and I said 
politely to the two: — 

"Good night." 

"They replied faintly: 

"Good night." 

"We locked the door on the outside — threw the 
key into the street, struck an alley — walked out of 
town, and, by every ruse known to our kind got to 
Salem. I was bent on Omaha, but, as luck would 
have it — Having separated from Tat' Crowe for the 
purposes of safety, and, he got out of it scott free, 
but I went into a barber-shop to be shaved. I stood 
my rifle at the door and got into a chair. When the 
artist was about through 'scraping' me, T saw in the 

44 



glass a man handling my rifle. Pardner, I never loose 
my grip on my gun now. That was a lesson. My 
blood stood cold in me for I knew who the man was. 
It was the well-known detective. Eainer of Port- 
land." 

"He knew me of old. He never gave me a 
chance to open fire. He had me dead, and, with a 
posse took me back to Portland. I then discovered 
that I was not the right man to go into the restau- 
rant business. I tried it in 'Frisco' and lost my wife. 
I tried it on the 'short order' plan at Portland and 
lost my liberty." 



45 



CHAPTEE V. 

TRACY TRIED AND CONVICTED.— MAKES A 
BREAK FOR LIBERTY.— A WONDER- 
FUL ESCAPE. 



On the next morning after the events recorded 
in the foregoing chapter, I was told by one of Tracy's 
attendants to meet him upon a high knoll of the moun- 
tain, where one could easily observe from all points. 

It was interesting to note that the famous des- 
perado looked in all respects as though he had taken 
no rest during the night, and that the dew seemed 
to have settled upon him. He was as bland and affa- 
ble as the day previous. 

He looked straight at me as I approached him; 
and, I felt then — having stood his sponsor on other 
occasions that he would give me his full confidence. 

But, I have said in this narrative that Harry 
Tracy enjoyed no confidences. He was a man alone 
in the battle to liberty. A quizzical smile passed over 
his features as I came near enough to observe. It 
occurred to me he was saying inwardly: 

"What a fool I am now going to make of this 
fellow." 

46 '/ 



I, on the other hand, felt that he could not de- 
ceive me very much as I had facts as milestones in 
his wonderful adventures. 

"Good morning, Pardner." 

"Good morning," I replied. 

"What can I do to make you happy this morn- 
ing?" 

I made no reply save to laugh, and began to un- 
strap my budget of miscellaneous matter. 

"You sent out a message to Chicago yesterday, 
Pardner. I want a fair deal here." 

He said this with a sort of serious look that re- 
minded one of the chief inventor of a scheme in 
'craps. 3 

" I did, sir." 

"What was it?" 

I handed him an exact copy, which read as fol- 
lows, omitting the address: 

"I hope to close my vacation by the 15th of Au- 
gust." 

"Is that all?" 

"It is," was answered. 

He applied a silver whistle to his lips and blew 
a long blast followed by three short ones. Then he 
said: 

"Pardner," (and here I must explain that he 
called no one by this pet appellation save the writer; 
and he did so always from the trial in 1897 at Den- 
ver), "I like you, but self-preservation is one of the 

47 



laws of the West. I am not sure about this message 
business. I like deputy sheriffs, for they are slow 
enough for me to keep tab on them, but this infernal 
lightning makes me chilly." 

Just then there was a sound of footsteps. I 
looked to the right, and, coming towards us was a 
slender youth, (to outward appearance), dressed as an 
Indian lad. The form was lithe, strong and a model 
of physical beauty. It had donned the garb of a man, 
but it was the form of a woman. I was certain it 
was a woman, and a white woman, though a casual 
observer would believe he saw a handsome Indian lad 
— painted, feathered and caparisoned in proper form. 

Tracy took an amused look and said: 

"Is this all right?" as he handed to the handsome 
apparition the copy of my telegram. A careful look, 
and a quick response in a musical female voice: 

"All right." 

"Nothing else?" he inquired. 

"Nothing now. See me before noon." 

The boy (?) gave me a searching look — a glance 
from exquisite black eyes — revealed a set of perfect 
teeth, bowed and tripped off. 

I feigned indifference and said: 

"How did you feel when arrested, and returned?" 

"I felt like a fool." 

"Why?" was ventured. 

"Because, I had no business to be caught that 

48 



way. I owed Bainer a good trick for this, and, I will 
show you how he got it later." 

"You prefer a fight, then," was suggested. 
"I should say; and, Pardner, I believe when a 
man secures his liberty by dint of adroitness and 
cleverness — coupled with good fighting blood, he 
ought to be at large. Now, years ago, I'm told, when 
a fugitive escaped and eluded pursuit, and got to cer- 
tain cities, known as 'cities of refuge/ freedom was 
granted. The same theory prevails even in this 
sheriff polluted country, eh?, and, I am going to gain 
my freedom through personal prowess and endur- 
ance." 

"Well, what has that to do with your arrest and 
return to Portland?" 

"Only this; I escaped." 
"How?" 

"Listen." He smiled that quiet insinuating smile, 
that meant death so often, and proceeded with a story 
that fascinated: 

fr First I wanted to get Cudahy. Next I wanted 
to be even with my wife. I must plan escape. I 
knew that meat and bread factory robbery meant ten 
years. "Well, I sized up old Detective Eainer on that 
free trip from Salem to Portland. He was a jovial 
'cuss/ but he enjoyed the jokes better than I did. I 
was studying his face, clothes^ shape and ways. Be- 
fore we got to Salem I knew Eainer better than Eain- 
er knew Harry Tracv or even himself." 



49 



"When we got to Portland I sized up the depot 
— that is an item in geography — I measured the dis- 
tance to the jail — houses, streets and all obstructions. 
See! I looked about the Court House, and in a gen- 
eral way 'sized up' the town." 

"Do you know," he resumed laughingly, "that I 
could give you a map of that 'man's town' from that 
rapid transit 'observation?' " 

"I went into jail. I saw no opening. It was a 
dead 'open and shut' game, and I was for once 'Mary's 
small white lamb.' The only consolation was that 
Crowe was safe." 

"The Portland papers were full of the important 
catch. Old Eainer played up big. I made up my 
mind that, out of that same gun he carried he would 
get a dose." 

"Of course, the San Francisco papers had me in 
up to my neck. My wife got the 'Extras.' " 

"She wrote to me at the Portland jail. I never 
answered. I always believed that what you say or 
write is sure to turn up later. So I just let her sweat. 
I knew I was in a 'pickle,' and could not make love 
or declare war. She wrote again. I was asked to 
answer by a whole lot of idiots who have more ad- 
vice than sense as ballast." 

"I went to trial. It was no such fight as we had 
in Denver, Pardner; but I got cash enough to do busi- 
ness. I gave 'Pat' Crowe credit for the cash. But 
an 'ass' of a lawyer is worse than a bucking 'broncho.' 

50 



That fellow, (here we will not refer to the honorable 
counsel by name, for we believe him fully capable), was 
so infernal stupid he could not tell the difference be- 
tween Kobbery and Arson. I gave him up for lost. I 
told the Judge I preferred going up ten years to being 
commuted on that fellow's suggestions and argu- 
ments. " 

"I was found guilty, I got ten years for a reform. 
I refused to testify, because it meant 'peaching' on 
and implicating Tat' Crowe. Pardner, I'm game if 
I am a criminal." 

"To add insult to injury Detective Rainer was 
deputized to escort me to Salem. He had two depu- 
ties. I appeared meek and lonesome. I hate effect, 
even if the law encourages it. Law to me is detest- 
able when dudes and thumbs' are used to execute it." 

"When we got to the Portland depot there was 
a crowd. The train was almost a special for Harry 
Tracy. The locomotive backed up to couple on some- 
thing. It was just in front of us. I was not hand- 
cuffed. Old Rainer was at my side and had my rifle. 
The engine uncoupled. I knew an engine to a dot. 
I decided what to do at once. I gave Rainer a knock 
on the head with my 'feelers' and he went over. I 
got my gun. The other two 'cops' flew. I caught 
the -engine and grasped the lever." 

"I drew the throttle wide open. She just flew. 
She was full of steam. I was going out of Portland, 
with a crowd hollowing after me at the rate of 75 

51 



miles per hour. I saw, as we turned a curve that the 
engineer was on board the engine and Rainer on the 
tender. Rainer had a cut on the temple where my 
'bumper' took him. I took a shot at both, and both 
fell off; but, the engineer had had time to disable the 
engine in some way, and, before I was a mile farther 
she stopped. I could not right her up, as I could see 
a whole army coming after me, so took to the woods. 
Harry Tracy was free, and Rainer shot. Victory! 
Freedom!" 



CHAPTER VI. 

HARRY TRACY GETS BACK TO SAN FRAN- 
CISCO MARRIES MINNIE O'RELL, FORM- 
ER FRIEND OF HIS, UNDER NAME 
OF JAMES ANTHONY. 



"I had no money, you say?" replied Tracy when 
interrogated on what he would do now that he was 
free. 

"See that gun — that's always reliable. I levy 
tribute with that along the route." 

"Well, what did you do first?" 

"After a short run of an hour in the woods, I 
stopped at a clear spring, washed up, and took an 
inventory. It was after noon and I was hungry. I 
could hear voices, as of children at play, and knew 
there must be a farmhouse near. I went that way. 
I was going to stand my gun in a bush, but I had a 
lesson on that and never left it out of my grip, only 
when compulsory. I marched straight up to the 
back door. A nice fat sleek looking woman came to 
the door, and, I said: 

"My good woman, I am Harry Tracy the burglar, 
robber and murderer. Don't let me frighten you. I 

53 



want something to eat. I must have it at once. If 
there are any men about the house I want to see 
them all in the kitchen. I looked sharp, but could 
see three children out in an adjoining orchard and 
that was all." 

"The good woman's eyes stuck out of her head 
— Her well developed stomach distended so I became 
alarmed about her 'sinch'; and, my dinner was in 
danger; and when I saw that she was about to topple 
over I said: 

"Now don't be alarmed, my little lady, I was 
only joking. I am hunting and lost my way a little 
in the woods; that's all." 

"With this she hove a sigh like 'down brakes and 
reverse.' " 

"She flew around with more alacrity than fat 
women usually do when their husbands are in a fam- 
ishing condition. I soon had a good meal. I ate it 
with relish, and put up a 'snack' for further reference. 
When she saw me develop the art of appropriating 
she again had a relapse and said in great consterna- 
tion: 

"You surely are a burglar!" 

"No, my good woman, I'm only a Democrat fol- 
lowing out the general plan of the last platform." 

"Now I hit that right. She was a full developed 
Republican, minus the right to vote. So she came 
to again and 'hove up' with another big 'Oh.' " 

"Good day, and many thanks." 

54 



"Good bye, Sir," she replied with another 'Oh.' " 
"I at once took the road, and started towards 
Portland, knowing the woman would keep watch, and 
thus deceive pursuers. I got abont half a mile np 
the road, and, was abont ont of sight of the honse 
when I observed a team coming towards me. I at 
once thought: 

"This is the fat woman's husband coming home 
from Portland. He has a little money. She said he 
was going to sell some stuff." 

"I was right. He was a thin man — just the kind 
for a fat wife's companion. I came up alongside of 
him, and said: 

"Governor your neck strap is broken." 
"Whoa — by thunder, I thought sutthin was the 
matter." 

"He laughed copiously, while I cut some of his 
straps — unhitched the traces, and took the reins out 
of his hands. The old fellow was a little 'tipsy/ but 
he soon 'came to' all right. You could have dumped 
a coal-scuttle into his face, as his jaws fell apart. I 
gave him one look and said: 

"Come down, governor, I want your change." 
"But, I need it sir — who are you? I — I — I'm" — ■ 
"Come, come, old cock, you are my game. I 
want all your feathers." 

"Well, a few words of explanation, and I got all 
the bills he had. It was $218. I allowed him to keep 
some small change." 

55 



"I put the money into several pockets — took his 
watch and a big jacknife and said: 

"Now, governor, get up on that seat; look straight 
west at that big tree in the field there. Don't take 
your eye off that till I count 100. I'll count in a 
whisper, so don't risk looking till I holler One Hun- 
dred." 

"He took my advice. I took to the woods on 
the other side of the road — threw a stone at the horses 
so they'd begin to get into a tangle and thus help 
distract the thin man, and, so far as I know he's 
there yet." 

"It took me ten days to get to San Francisco. I 
was neither molested nor questioned all the way. I 
knew I was often near my pursuers. I often got news- 
papers, and held conversations with people I met and 
that set me out of harm's way very often. When I 
got to ^Frisco' I found that Florence had stored our 
household stuff — searched for me — wrote me often at 
Portland jail, and, in many ways tried to find me. 
She had gone back to Denver. The authorities at 
Portland jail had ' copped' some of my mail, and Flor- 
ence, knowing my temper felt I would not forgive her. 
I got this information of Minnie O'Kell, the friend of 
Florence, when we were in the restaurant business." 

"That night I called on Minnie. I found she 
was very much of a 'sport.' She enjoyed being con- 
sidered that way. She never was very l straight' and 
now showed it clear. She was a clever and true wom- 

56 



an though. She had read of me after I left Trisco/ 
and knew of my latest adventures. She praised me 
up, and agreed not to give me away. That night we 
'turned a trick' together that gave us a start in life. 
Fll not tell about that for Minnie might get into trou- 
ble. In a week I got onto her ways and she onto 
mine. She was as clever as you find them, and just 
the companion for me. I proposed we go to Alaska 
and get our buried wealth there. She consented. She 
was pretty cute and said: 

"We should get married." 

"I am not divorced." I answered. 

"Neither am I." 

"Were you married?" I inquired surprised. 

"Yes, my man got life in San Quentin six months 
ago." 

"Your name is James Anthony?" she laughed. 

"My name/ will be Mary Eiley?" she laughed 
heartier. 

"I hate bigamy," I replied. 

"It will be a revenge on Florence," she suggested. 

"1 know, but I prefer to hang for killing a dozen 
men than to be reported doing small f nasty work.' " 

"Go your way then, but Florence will get a di- 
vorce and no wonder if she is at it now. I heard she 
was. If we were married Fll send her notice of it 
for fun — see?" 

"That decided me. Anything to give Florence a 

57 



'pain.' I could not kill her, but wanted to show her 
I was on earth the second time." 

"But," I suggested, "she'll inform them at Port- 
land and I'll 'do time' for shooting Engineer Lawrence 
and detective Kainer." 

"No," she replied recklessly, "I'll protect that end 
of the deal. You did not kill either of them, and 
they ought to feel lucky to he alive, when you take a 
shot at them, Harry. But, I see you'r not game, and 
I'll look for a fellow who is." She knew that would 
work. 

"I consented. We were married. She may not 
have loved me then, but showed she did later. Flor- 
ence got the news of our marriage. She said it broke 
her heart, but I know she's alive today with her heart 
and face as fine as ever." 

"Minnie and I prepared to go to Alaska. We 
had a good time with some of our borrowed 'wealth,' 
and made some more in the 'same old way.' But, 
Pardner, I never allowed a woman to disgrace herself 
if I could help it. I may be an outlaw and a bandit, 
but I know lots of dudes and wealthy society young 
'milk-sops' who disgrace and dishonor women from 
their mothers to their wives. They are not half as 
honorable as Harry Tracy. I tell you, Minnie O'Kell 
never did a 'dirty' thing, and, when she helped some 
'cad' get rid of his money it was game sport and no 
low down business. She was true to' me, although she 
had, probably, not been correct always." 



58 



''Florence went at it 'tooth and nail' to get to 
see me. She was not aided by her people, but was 
bent on seeing her pardner of other days. Minnie got 
onto this, and hurried the trip to Alaska." 

"Minnie and I as Mr. and Mrs. James Anthony 
took a late evening train for Seattle, to arrange for 
boat to Skagway, sometime in October, 1900. I had 
been at liberty a good many months, and began to feel 
pretty easy. We got to Seattle all right, but I had 
an uneasy feeling about me. I had my Winchester, 
as usual, but it is an awkward thing to carry even in 
a case. I suspected that a man with a sort of Jeru- 
salem nose just opposite us was making observation. 
Just as we got to the depot at Seattle, who should I 
see but a woman I knew had a walk no one else could 
have but one woman, I stood transfixed!" 

"She rushed up to me — threw her arms about my 
neck and hollered: 

"Harry Tracy — thank God, I have found you." 

"Minnie stood as still as a hitching-post." 

"I looked like a salt shad." 

"I have found you, too, said a voice that sounded 
like the filing of a rusty bucksaw." 

"It was the man with the Jerusalem nose." 

"You are my prisoner," he said, and tried to slip 
on some 'bracelets.'" 

"Both women knew there would be a whirlwind. 
They stood back just a little as the storm broke." 

"Now, Pardner, I never did allow those things to 

59 



be put on unless there is a large committee present 
to do it right/' said Tracy as he looked the very em- 
bodiment of resolute determination on that point, and 
he proceeded: 

"I gave him the barrel of my rifle in such wise 
as to deprive him of his national characteristic. It 
went across his nose to a finish. That was a big fight. 
I went at it like a tornado." 

"Florence fainted, Minnie fought like a demon. 
There was general havoc there all over. I would run 
a few steps then floor some one like a beef." 

"I sent several to the floor, but my gun fell when 
I struck the Jerusalem nose." 

"I was a prisoner again, with two wives at large! 
What next?" 

We will more minutely relate the finale of the 
above described combat in our next chapter^ and show 
how the desperado played his part whether in luck or 
out of luck. 



60 



CHAPTEE VII. 

HOW TWO WIVES CAN BE TRUE TO ONE HUS- 
BAND.— HARRY TRACY AGAIN BACK AT 
PORTLAND JAIL.— A DESPERATE 
BATTLE WITH OFFICERS. 



fr How did this reverse affect you?" 

ec I am a shadow of a man, perhaps, but I am a 
western border philosopher. I like Indian, an Italian 
or a mountain lion. I hate anything that is mean or 
is a sneak. At first I said: 

"Is Florence an informer?" 

f T knew no woman that ever loved a man, could 
be very bad, if she was a little bit at fault. I did not 
admire the suspection of her. I could say as the 
lawyers do, that the 'burden of proof was against 
her." 

"The scene at the depot was not so bad. If I 
had not lost my rifle I would have been on the 'carpet' 
for a long time; but, when you hit a Jew on the nose 
even a steel barrel glances off. It flew, I had no time 
to look for it. I afterwards found that it fell at 
Florence's feet. She picked it up, and, like a major 
never delivered my trusted 'repeater* to me until 

61 



June 9th, 1902. I got it at her hands and did good 
work. Strange to say I did not kill a man there. 
Seven never got out of bed for ten weeks, but I never 
felt friendly towards the coroners or undertakers of 
Seattle after that. They all reproved me for uncer- 
tainty. Both expected an income from my efforts." 

"Now, Pardner, he resumed laughing, "I had to 
smile at the outlook. It was a game fight. Several 
men on the floor — fifty policemen before me — ten 
men around the prisoner — An audience of a thousand 
ready to run at the crack of a rifle or join a mob to 
lynch their victim — two handsome women ten paces 
away holding each others hands. And a whipped 
desperado in the midst, with a pale but smiling face, 
and a bad gash in his back. I tell you, Pardner, some- 
thing had been doing." 

"The two women had not been arrested for som^ 
reason and they managed to conceal my gun." 

"The police Sargeant, or some other well clad pre- 
text said: 

"Tracy, let me put on these handcuffs." 

"You had better let me walk along without them. 
I always do as I agree." 

"Somehow the look I gave convinced him. Be- 
sides on the floor were men who had interviewed me 
a moment before. Some were quite still, and might 
be dead." 

"I would have fought longer, but some cur had 
stabbed me in the right shoulder. My arm was dis- 



abled, and I was losing blood like rain. I came near 
fainting, but laughed out loud as I heard a fellow 
with a broken head holler: 

"It vas a mean trick, it was. Dot man shtriked 
me mit dot dam big ting, ond it hoorted." 

"He screamed at the top of his voice as he saw 
the blood streaming out of a large sized gash over 
his eye." 

"I had hit the fellow with a policeman's hoaxer/ 
and, the way I used that must have made the authori- 
ties glad they had invested in new clubs that week. 
I first gave the 'fly-cop' a bat with it that sent him 
down like a 'beef .' " 

"It was all up. I was disabled, but still looking 
for an 'inning/ " 

"I only gave Florence and Minnie side glances, 
as I feared they would be jailed; but both came right 
near and Minnie called to me: 

"Harry are you hurt?" 

"I turned half around to reveal the blood gush- 
ing from my shoulder. Florence nearly fainted while 
Minnie said: 

"Officers this is my husband. See that his wound 
is cared for." 

"Florence pulled off a large mull tie she had on, 
and handed it to the nearest officer. The fellow made 
an excuse of a bandage, and soon I was on my way to 
jail. The next day as they hurried me off to the 
depot and from there to Portland, I caught a glimpse 

63 



of both women a couple of times. They both rode on 
the same train with me. It was a wonder they were 
not locked up. At Portland both came to see me the 
next day." 

"Now, I expected treachery. It is nearly impos- 
sible to find two women who will agree at such times. 
They usually find out which is the choice one and has 
the man's preference. But I have had strange experi- 
ence with women. I am not a 'daffy' fellow about 
'skirts/ but these two were exceptions. Both stood 
by me to the end." 

"The first morning in my old room at the jail 
both women came to see me. I was sitting on my 
cot. They were allowed to talk to me, though an 
officer stood guard. I was bandaged some, but not 
in bad shape at all. I was as cheerful as could be 
expected. Minnie said: 

"Well Hank, we are going to stay by you. Flor- 
ence was not as bad as you thought." 

"Harry I did not wrong you. I may have been 
foolish and not as confiding as I should, but it was 
all for your sake." 

"Well, Pardner, I am not soft, but that melted me 
quite a little." 

"Were you tried and convicted?" 

"I had an old sentence. That was raked up. I 
was given a 'railroad' trial on shooting Earner, and, 
after the lawyers and judges had guessed it all up I 
was given 20 years in Salem 'Hotel De Bars.'" 

64 



"What became of the wives?" 

"They worked tooth and nail. I heard from them 
often. I had several friends besides. But those 
women, Crowe, brother Jim and others helped me on 
my trial; but I must reserve the right to say that my 
escape from the 'Pen* was no crime of theirs. Mer- 
rill and I did the f con' part of that as well as the 
'crim/ of it." 

"You will not tell who helped you out?" 

"Oh, no, Pardner, that you can fill in as best you 
may, but Harry Tracy never 'peached' in his life, and 
will not begin now." 

He moved away saying: 

"See me here tomorrow at ten." 



65 



CHAPTER VIII. 

HOW TRACY MET MERRILL.— WHAT THE 
WIVES WERE DOING.— HOW THE ES- 
CAPE WAS PLANNED.— WHAT HE 
THOUGHT OF PRISON LIFE. 



I found a man had to be prompt with Tracy, and 
was there on time. 

"Did your wife stay in Salem?" was asked after 
a salutation. 

"Which?" he asked with a broad smile. 

"Well, either of them." 

"Florence stayed in Denver a short time on some 
business of her own and for me. Minnie and she 
went to San Francisco from Salem right after I began 
my apprenticeship to the State. I was so clever I 
learned about three trades there. After they had 
made some arrangements at both towns they sent for 
brother Jim. He had money. He, and the two 
women, never suffered, and I know certain Minnie 
and he got pretty thick. Of course that made Flor- 
ence and I feel better." 

"Two women makes matrimony a burden. I pre- 
fer seeing them one at a time." 



66 



"Did you often hear what was going on outside, 
among your friends?" 

"Pardner," and here again Tracy got earnest; "I 
had a way of my own to give and receive messages. 
I knew every officer to the dot. I knew and had bet- 
ter measurements of that old bastile than the man 
that made it. One man earned double his salary do- 
ing the business. He did it on a small folded slate 
in his pockets. The slate or set of slates were in four 
pieces. We had to write our messages straight across 
the four. He would only bring in one at a time, and 
take the first one away when the fourth was brought. 
We could seldom get sense to it till we got the fourth. 
If he should be caught the slate — looking as though 
broken across — would tell very little. He was clever 
enough." 

"What became of him?" 

"I shot him July 9th when escaping," replied 
Tracy coolly, while he adjusted a bandage about his 
wounded leg. 

"Why did you do it?" 

"I'll tell you. I don't like a sneak. Fve told 
you that before, hav'n't I? I put my faith in him. 
So did Merrill; but, do you know, he was getting such 
a fat thing out of it, that, when we planned for the 
time of escape I found he gave it away on purpose, 
by using a 'trusty/ called Tiffany, to hold us for more 
time, and consequently, more cash from our wealthy 
friends on the outside. My friends had more money 

67 



than good sense. They should have used the money 
on deposit and not pay direct. That is why Merrill 
and I changed our plans and made the break a day 
sooner than we had planned; and, sooner than any 
one knew. I learned that a cash income had been 
too much for Mr. Officer's sense of honor." 

"How did you get word to Merrill seeing the 
friend you trusted deceived you?" 

"That was difficult. When we were at Tiash' on 
the evening of June 8th, Dave Merrill sat opposite mc 
as usual. I had taken quite a notion to Dave. In 
fact he and I were old comrades before we were sent 
to the 'cloister/ He worked in the supply department 
with me, and I got a side word to him often." 

"You can sometimes get a word in, but when you 
want a conversation it is different. Well, I saw that 
Dave finished his portion of bread fast, and, when the 
guard was not looking I handed him a piece of mine. 
In it was the other plan. At first I was afraid that 
Dave would eat the bread, note and all, but, as I was 
beginning to think of an emetic to get that note out of 
Dave he dropped the bread in a very clever way on 
his lap." 

"1 says to myself, 'Davey' you have more sense 
in that old yellow 'mug' of yours, than I ever thought." 

"I saw him eat the bread with great satisfaction. 
Our friends would not be prepared for the break the 
next morning, but, briefly stated, we knew where our 

68 



guns were. I had one and a knife, so did Dave. My 
rifle was sure to be handy/ 

"I believe you have told me Florence handed you 
your rifle when you escaped?" 

"Well, yes, in a way, but not direct. It was where 
she saw that the officer left it and I knew where to 
find it." 

"When we arranged with the officer, and I must 
not name him, for I am sure none of these fellows 
were any too honest, and, they will bear shaking up 
in a general way better than separately." 

"Convict Tiffany was the one to tip our escape, 
to our pretended officer friend, and had been given 
the duty of watching Merrill and I. So, when we 
shot him as they say, 'in cold blood* we rid the country 
of a man that was too mean even to associate with 
convicts. Pardner, a man that's too crooked to be 
honest with friend or foe, is too crooked to be straight 
in his coffin." 

"When we took the prison march the next morn- 
ing — that is, on June 9th, I had an assurance from 
Dave, by a nod, that all was right. When we got to 
the right spot as shown on the paper I was afraid 
Dave would eat for supper, I whipped out my revolver 
shot the guard in charge, and dashed for the officers 
of the 'coop/ I took one look at Merrill. He looked 
like a demon. He put his gun so close to an officer 
who rushed at us that the fellow was on fire in a sec- 
ond. The smoke seemed to puff out of him from 

69 



both sides; and the bullet, after going clean through 
the big fellow hit one of the 'cons' in the leg. I 
dashed into the office, knocked two men down with 
a stool — got my trusty old gun where our 'flunkey' 
said it was concealed, and war commenced. You see 
the fellow, our messenger and 'trick' friend kept 
close tab on us through 'con' Tiffany; and, just as 
Dave and I were making a leap for the door leading 
to the side gate of the enclosure Tiffany rushed to 
the door with our "Pet" officer. They were both 
husky fellows. They came at a mighty unlucky time 
— for them. The officer locked one door. Tiffany 
was at the other. I don't know now why our 'bilk' 
officer played such a stiff game of 'trumps' when he 
knew we had guns and knives. Perhaps he thought 
we would not shoot him. He didn't live long enough 
to know Harry Tracy." 

"Kill them both, Hank," Merrill yelled. 

"Following up a deed with his advice he shot 
Tiffany, but Dave was an awkward shot, and I was 
always afraid he would kill me when aiming to hit 
the other fellows, some time in our battles." 

"I gave our 'pal' officer one that sent him out of 
his trouble. I got his arms, and all he had in his 
pockets. He had a good revolver and knife. Here 
they are. I rejoiced in killing a sneak, informer and 
a traitor to both his friends and employers, for the 
sake of a few dirty dollars." 

"He could have played his part just as well and 

70 



kept out of danger. Our shooting of course brought 
all the guards and band of curs called 'Trusteys" after 
us." 

" Ton' Tiffany was on his feet, but looked weary. 
He was reaching for his pistol on the floor." 

"Kill him, Hank," yelled Merrill, as he put a 
quietus on two more fellows who very rashly dared to 
come within range." 

"Dave was a good killer. He'd as leave shoot a 
man as drink a pint of booze. I sort of liked his f kill- 
ing' ways." And here Tracy laughed at his own joke. 

"Come, Merrill!" I called. 

"I grabbed Tiffany by the shoulders, and, Merrill 
and I held him as a shield while we backed off towards 
the inclosure gate. I had the keys. One moment 
and we were on the outside." 

"As our shield, Tiffany, stopped three shots, he 
'screeched' like a dog with his tail clipped. We got 
to a clump of brush, and, Tiffany being helpless I gave 
him a bullet in the head." 

"Pardner," resumed the outlaw, with an accentu- 
ation, as cold as death, and that made me shiver, "I 
hated to waste a bullet on Tiffany." 

"There are a whole lot of men too mean to live 
and not fit to die. I prefer killing them for luck. 
But, Pardner, it was in this fight I lost little Eachie's 
book." 

ff Now, we had libert} 7 , but what good is liberty 
now? I soon found it was Harry Tracy against the 
world." 

71 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE FIRST DARING DEEDS OF HARRY TRACY 

AND DAVE MERRILL AFTER THEIR 

ESCAPE FROM THE SALEM PRISON, 

JUNE 9th, A. D. 1902. 



THEIR CONFEDERATES AND ASSISTANCE. 



One evening, as the escaped and hunted desper- 
ado was standing beneath one of the tall mountain 
pines so common along the inlets of Puget Sound, 
the writer came in sight, as usual, after giving one 
long blast from a whistle provided by the adept ad- 
venturer. His system of signals changed every day 
or so, depending upon dangers and surroundings. The 
purpose of his caution and exactness being to elude 
imitation by the many pursuers. 

The lank form did not seem to change position 
or expression on my approaching him. It was a som- 
bre sight — this setting of the sun across the Sound, 
the innocent music of the water-falls, and in the cen- 
ter of the picture an alert, strange and sublime fig- 
ure. ' 

"You have on a sort of sirtout this morning, Pard- 

72 



ner?" Kefering to an easy attire donned by me to 
meet warm weather and rapid action. 

"How did you know, your back was turned from 
me." 

"Oh, I can see without putting my helm hard 
to port. That is the secret of my easy escapes. I 
see, and don't look. By the way, this is just the kind 
of morning Merrill and I left the 'menagerie' at 
Salem." 

"Can you tell me about it, Captain?" 

"Now, who told you. I was Captain?" 

"Why, my dear fellow, I must not call you Tracy. 
If I call you Captain that will work well, for it gives 
no clue." 

"I think you are right, Tard/ Some fools al- 
ways call out my name. That was the last thing Mer- 
rill did on earth." 

"When you got out of range at Salem what did 
you do?" 

"We had it all arranged to get our instructions 
at an old vacant house on the east suburbs of Salem. 
It being broad day-light and the infernal town being 
so small it was a hard job to sail clear of breakers." 

"To puzzle pursuers, and not go where expected 
was the thing." 

"We ran for two hours and a half. It was a 
stretch of run no other two men on earth could fol- 
low. The only trouble would be horses, dogs and 
fresh pursuers called out from ringing of bells, fi- 

73 



^ 



ring of 'escape guns/ and such things. We knew our 
friends would soon hear of our escape; but would 
they follow instructions in view of the fact that we 
had 'antedated/ as the lawyers say. The first issue 
of Tracy and Merrill was ahead of schedule time. But 
we had no time to think of that just then. Our con- 
versation was about as follows, as soon as we took a 
'bee line' out of town and into the woods: 

"Follow me Dave — say nothing — shoot when you 
hear from me — make no noise." 

"On we dashed. Dave soon began to breath like 
a rusty fog horn. I was afraid of his wind. He had 
not exercised right for many months. That was the 
trouble with both of us. We had been in that old 
'stunting factory' so long. Free air and long runs 
are what do the business. Since our plan of escape 
had been arranged I had posted Dave to exercise. He 
did some, but not enough. I used to climb all over 
my cell. Hang by one arm 'skin the cat/ as the 'kids' 
used to say in Kansas. In fact I would even catch 
an occasional 'grayback' in my 'downy' couch at the 
'inner chamber' of the Bastile, so as to get notions 
of activity out of the 'critter.' " 

"We had gone about two miles, in a half circle, 
and were in the wooded country of La Creole Creek 
or Eiver. AVhen I kept turning more and more to 
the left Dave whispered: 

"What in — , why don't you go straight ahead?" 

"His voice was pretty well mixed with wind, and, 

74 



as we hacfc come upon a road that was traveled a great 
deal, I got him to stop in the bush a moment, while 
I crawled up to see if any one was 'scudding 7 along 
that route. Three fellows on horseback were coming 
up the road — riding as though horse-flesh was made 
of buzzard. We got down close to the ground, but 
it was so hot I feared Dave would collapse. I had 
a small vial, and wetting my hand I put it to his nose. 
He looked half mad and said: — 

"Do you take me for a 'lobster'?" 

"No, Dave, but you haint no very big fish now." 

"What was that?" he said. 

"Peppermint essence," I said. 

"If it had been good whiskey I could stand that 
baby business," he said. 

"I could see I had his 'spunk up/ and, as I wet 
my mouth, nose and forehead with the stuff he did 
the same." 

"Don't that help your steam-chest, Dave?" 

"Opens the flues right out"; he grinned, and I 
knew the old boy would go another relay." 

"Just then the horsemen flew past. They were 
pursuers, sure enough." 

"See, Dave," I said, "these fellows think we are 
'Boss Tweed' — take the middle of the road, and stop 
at the best hotels. They are going to be easy." 

"No, I am not so sure about that. Dogs, and 
old hunters won't climb flag staffs to look for us. 
We'll never get off." 

75 



"I saw at once Dave's back bone was as limber 
as a 'polleywog's' in spots, and said: 

"Dave, remember, w.e are in to get off. We must 
get away or die." 

"He looked me straight in the eye, and I was 
sure he would stick." 

"He took my fist, and, the grip of the fellow put 
the 'ginger' into me. He had a hand as hard and 
strong as a sausage-grinder. I like a good solid grip, 
Pardner. When a fellow gives me one of those slip- 
pery shakes of a slimy paw I feel like giving him the 
butt of my gun around where the prize fighters call 
the 'Solar Plexus.' " 

"I looked up and down the road. All was clear, 
and with a bound we were over. Then another hour 
of run straight west along the creek. It was as fine 
a run as you ever saw. Dave would once in a while 
knock a limb off a tree with his head, or get several 
yards of barbed wire fence between his legs and un- 
der his arms, and I had to stop to mend up his trou- 
bles; but, aside from that all went fine till my stomach 
began to feel like a rotating emery, and I stopped 
near a nice little run of water, and waited until I 
could see Dave's headlight come around the last curve. 
He finally came and 'sprawled' down with his nose 
right into the ground. I saw he was all gone. I was 
afraid he might show the 'white feather,' then, so I 
gave him a little peppermint and water. Then T saw 
he looked used up as he gasped: 

76 



"Too long — no wind — tough — can't stand it — 
rather stop and fight — oh — " 

"Well, he breathed like the slow horse in a 
'Derbey.' I got into an inside pocket, and got out 
a flask. Dave got an eye on it and said: 

"Hank, that's the 'stuff' — none of your baby 
'slop' — give her here." 

"Nothing would revive him like that 'grape and 
canister' whiskey. He liked to feel it rasp and grate 
as it went down. He looked all new in a minute, and 
said: 

"Hank, let 'em come on now, will you?" 

"Yes, but we must not show ourselves. Besides, 
I must have food." 

"I feel as hollow as a piece of abandoned sewer," 
said Dave. 

"Don't lay down, Dave," I said, "for we are 
steaming wet with perspiration, so walk around — keep 
your blood up, or you'll get stiff." 

"Never mind 'my bulley.' " Then he said: "That 
pint will limber me up as smooth as a coyote." 

"I laughed, and felt good to see him hold out 
strong." 

"Where did you get the whiskey, Hank?" 

"Dave I never drop a man and not rob him if I 
have time to do it. Every officer must have whiskey 
to keep up his courage. That is old TlunkeyV at the 
desk where I hit the fellow with the tip end of the 
chair leg in the left eye." 

77 



"Well, what will you do for a drink?" 

"I never need whiskey till I am flat down. Then 
it is the thing, but just now I feel fine, and could 
run fifty miles." 

"Some men go through life on false courage, 
Pardner — see'!" 

"Well I had some dry bread, and several pieces 
of meat I had slipped away at breakfast that morn- 
ing, and we shared it — Dave got two thirds. He was 
sort of an old 'smooth bore/ and, it took more to fill 
him than us 'coiled wire springs' sort of fellows." 

"We rested till late that night. We had a pro- 
gramme, and carried it out. We sneaked back to the 
suburbs of Salem — knowing no one would expect 
that. We found our notes of instructions at the old 
'shack' and lots of whiskey; and, a lot of good 'grub.' 
We had a fine time. I drank a little. We had three 
razors and several knives — dye for hair or whiskers, 
and plenty of good clothes hid clever enough in the 
wall. It was done by old timers and smart women — 
I knew who — see?" 

"We spent some time in Salem. We only saw 
one of our friends, but our trip was then outlined to 
Seattle. Early on the morning of the 10th we were 
well on our way out of Salem, but, I did not like 
having so many officers ahead of us along the route 
and told Merrill so." 

"What can we do about it?" he asked. 

78 I 



"Do something to start them all back this way 
as fast as possible." 

"What will we do?" 

"Come with me." 

"I was going straight for a farm horse, but, just 
then an old 'rusty 3 came over a hill driving a team 
of smart looking horses." 

"That's our man, Dave." 

"What will we do?" 

"Bob him of cash, clothes and team." 

"~We stopped the farmer. We took his clothes 
— left him there trying to fit on an old set of rags 
Merrill had lugged along as sort of guano ballast. The 
farmer looked frightened enough when I said to him: 

"We are Merrill and Tracy, the escaped convicts 
— We want all you've got." 

"Better look out," he said; "officers just passed 
here a half hour- ago." 

"Don't worry about that, 'old whiskers,' or we'll 
mop the grass with you," said Merrill thinking the 
fellow lied." 

"We left Mr. J. W. Eoberts in the middle of the 
road — Took his team and drove towards Salem. When 
out of sight we cut around another road, and, for ten 
miles drove along in a quiet farmer like way. We 
saw lots of people along the road, but no one seemed 
to suspect us. Of course old Eoberts spread the news, 
and telegrams were sent from all parts to all parts. 
When heading up not very far from G-ervais, we spied 

79 



a couple of fellows coming to meet us in a buggy. It 
was most dark, and I wanted more amusement, cash 
and clothes. We stopped. The two fellows stopped. 
One said: 

"Where are you from gentlemen?" 

"Just down the road," I said. 

"Have you seen or heard of the escaped convicts 
Tracy and Merrill?" they asked. 

"Yes," I said, and then whispered to Dave: 

"Dave, grab the horse, and Fll fix them." 

"Quick as a flash Dave had the horse, and I cov- 
ered the fool officers saying: 

"Up with your hands or Fll kill you. You fel- 
lows have found Tracy and Merrill. You are lucky 
to live." 

"They sat like two old ornaments while we rifled 
their pockets bound them hands and feet, and used 
three pairs of handcuffs they brought for our benefit, 
and handcuffed them together, and fast to a small 
tree back in the woods." 

" 'Now, officers,' I said, 'we are going to sleep in 
the wagon near here, and, one word or any noise 
and Fll kill you both.' I was real sorry for them as 
it rained, and we had taken all their best clothes. 
They must have looked like 'swamp angels' when 
found." 

"Good night, boys — pleasant dreams," I said, just 
for a joke. 'One grinned a little, but the other one 
looked quite feeble and motherless." 

80 



"We turned the farmer's team around, and the 
buggy in the opposite direction, put a dummy on the 
seat of the wagon, started the old tired horses, got in- 
to the buggy, and started, towards Portland at a brisk 
rate." 

"We kept a sharp look-out, but, when right near 
Gervais, we had to go through some narrow defiles, 
and I felt a little 'skittish.' Merril was in a shiver. 
His nerve was leaking out fast. Some fellows will 
fight but real 'grit' is thinking it over with coolness. 
I proposed we drive into a side and hardly frequented 
road and rest. We did so. We had plenty to eat 
and drink. And, I want to say, Dave had lots of 
'sand' when he had that 'carbolic' whiskey in him. 
It was lucky I got a 'wad' of that into him for foun- 
dation. We heard some horses and the voices of sev- 
eral men. In a moment they came upon our bor- 
rowed buggy." 

"Hello," said one, "here is Jim and Ned's horse 
and buggy." 

"How in thunder did they come here?" 

"They must be near somewhere." 

"Look out boys, these fellows may have got a 
drop on them, and are near." 

"Then many other similar comments were made 
within 100 feet of us. I got weary waiting and 
hunched Dave. He knew what it meant. I sprang 
to my feet fired a shot into one fellow and called out: 

"Surrender, or you are dead men!" 

81 i 



"Give it to them, Hank," yelled Merrill. 

"Now, Dave was something of a fool. I wanted 
these dozen or more officers to get away, but, as I 
said before, Dave liked to kill. Yon might just as 
well try to stop an army of Comanche Indians as 
Dave. He fired as fast as a squad. His old parrot 
gun went off everywhere. I joined in as I saw the 
officers all getting away from Dave's bullets. We left 
three to tell the story of what happened after the 
others left." 

"Dave wiped off the sweat and powder and said: 

"Hank, I shot straight at them, but they must 
be politicians — too slippery." 

"Now, I knew we must fly. We caught two of 
the horses that had lost their riders, and they were 
'beauties/ " 

"They were good ones for us just then. We 
needed something rapid. We just flew along. We 
talked to a 'gawkey' fellow we met on the road to 
Portland, and I said: 

"Hello, you antique fellow, what is new about 
town?" 

"He looked very knowing and said: 

"Them convict fellows will git fits now. The 
Governor has called out 250 soldiers to round them 
up." 

"I thought it would be a good idea to find out 
more about that and went on foot into Gervais. I 
left Dave in some thick bush. I was gone a half hour. 

82 



I asked for mail at the post office, saw several posses 
ride along the streets, and, finally talked to an old 
'setter/ such as you'll find in all towns, and the kind 
of a fellow who sees and hears everything. He told 
me the troops were on the road to G-ervais, and near 
there somewhere." 

"I went hack to Dave and said: 
"Well, Dave, we have nothing to fear. We have 
them all going back to look at the hole we made 
where we got out." 

"I said this to stop the ague fits he had coming 
on every time he heard a noise. I gave him more 
'rat-bane booze' I got at Gervais, and, we rode on. 
It was just about my hunger hour, and I made up my 
mind I had a good friend in the gorge off from the 
old Portland stage road two miles ahead. No sooner 
thought of and proposed to Dave and we voted unani- 
mously to go there. We went there, and, came as 
near being handed in, as any two 'lobsters' you ever 
saw. Well I'm tired, 'Pard,' and must quit. Will 
give you the battle with the 'tin' men later. Good 
night." 



83 



CHAPTER X. 

SURROUNDED BY 250 SOLDIERS, AND 100 OF- 
FICERS AND CITIZENS.— MARVELOUS 
ESCAPE.— TRACY AND CONFED- 
ERATES SHOW NERVE AND 
WONDERFUL ACTIVITY. 
—DEFIES THE LAW. 



The authorities of Oregon wanted to head off the 
escaping outlaws ere they would cross the line to 
Washington. The wary fugitives had adopted the 
plan much of the time, of moving in a circle. Thus 
the Militia was called out to head them off. Blood- 
hounds were procured, but the progress of the two 
men and their cunning baffled all who tried to over- 
take them. No one could anticipate Tracy. He was 
as apt to turn up in Salem as anywhere else. Still, 
he was no doubt making for the border of Washing- 
ton. 

In a narrow gorge of a small tributary of the 
Columbia river, far out of the beaten roadways, and, 
in such an inaccessable rugged spot lived a hermit. 
He was a strange being, but, all conceded that 
knew him that he lived some sort of dual life. He 

84 



was thought to be a Dr. Jeckyl and Mr. Hyde. He 
was never seen away from his stout log hut, and seldom 
seen there. He was known as "Bill the Buffalo," on 
account of his long shaggy hair, neglected heard and 
general tonsorial unkept condition. 

Looking into his cabin at night about ten o'clock 
on June 12th one could see four men at a rude table 
playing cards. All are jovial and quietly enjoying 
the game. One of the players is "Bill the Buffalo." 
The other three will be introduced as we proceed. 

"Well TButch' we must go." 

"Why not stay all night, Harry?" 

"Because, TButch' and I have business in Port- 
land tomorrow." 

The first speaker was a man about thirty-five 
years of age; well made, and at once would be selected 
as a desperate character. It was the desperado Harry 
Longbaugh, and the other The Prince of train rob- 
bers and outlaws, 'Butch' Cassidy. Both men of 
splendid physique and cool judgment. Longbaugh 
was dark and Cassidy a blonde. Otherwise they were 
similar. 

The host turned to the smallest of his three 
guests, who was always silent, and said: 

"Tat' you'll stop all night?" 

"No, Bill, I must go to Seattle as you know, to 
direct affairs from there." 

This man is none other than Tat' Crowe — the 
most calculating and capable man at all deft games 

85 



of the trio. All three men are of the iron frames so 
often fonnd in those compact fellows of great endur- 
ance. All are well dressed, and are strictly a contrast 
to the strange dismantled looking host. 

Just as they ceased the game and spoke as stated, 
a loud rap was heard at the door. Each man drew a 
revolver. 

"Whose there?" asked the host. 

"Harry Tracy." 

"'Great heaven!" said Bill. 

"The infernal idiot," burst out Cassidy. 

"Let him in," said Crowe quietly. 

Crowe never made bad matters worse by complain- 
ing. 

The massive door was unbarred of its huge iron 
bolts, and, in stepped Tracy and Merrill — both very 
much travelstained. 

"What kind of a mess is this?" 

"Never mind, 'Butch/ " replied Tracy, "we must 
have rest, and this is the only safe place." 

"Not so safe," said Longbaugh. 

"Why?" asked Merrill, who looked unnerved. 

"The militia are very near, and some officers and 
private f DV are watching close." 

"Let them come, there will be more funerals," 
said Tracy with a cool expression that was ever the 
admiration of 'Butch' Cassidy, who had been much 
in Tracy's company; and, who knew him to perfec- 
tion. 



86 



"But, they may get the bunch of us," interposed 
Cassidy. 

Tatf Crowe here interposed and said: 

"Don't make trouble before it's here. The boys 
must have our help." 

So the conversation ran, while the two fugitives 
ate a hearty meal of some coarse meat and vegetables 
brought out by the neglected looking host. Crowe 
had encouraged Merrill. The cool head of Tat' Crowe 
took matters as they then were and studied 'futures.' 

Merrill gained courage with each drink too, and 
became quite anxious to relate his dexterity in killing. 
Just as he had drained a very large glass of raw 
whiskey, and began to show some spirit in debate, and 
all were amused at several interesting anectodes of the 
escape and^ pursuit, a loud rap was given upon the 
door. Two great dogs rose from an inner room, and 
came forward with hair on end. Not a sound escaped 
them; but f Bill the Buffalo' pointed to the Mastiffs 
and said: 

"Enemies." 

"Eeady boys," said Cassidy. 

In a moment each man was alert with gun in 
hand. 

"Not a word," said Crowe. 

There being no windows observable in this re- 
markable house, nothing could be seen by any one 
without. 



87 



'Bill the Buffalo' deftly disappeared into a small 
side chamber, and as soon returned. 

Tracy stood straight in the center of the floor 
wearing a very unusual smile. 

Another loud pounding on the door and a com- 
mand: 

"Open up here men. We are after you; and you 
are surrounded." 

"Only three at the door," said 'Bill/ "you Cassidy, 
and Tracy get out by the ground ladder. 1/11 signal, 
and open the door. Grab the three, and make them 
prisoners." 

"Good," said all. 

In one minute the door flew open, and, without 
hardly a sound the three men — all clad in soldiers 
uniforms, were in the hut, and prisoners. 

One was a lieutenant. The others privates. They 
were brave, but very foolish men for attempting so 
boldly the apprehension of Harry Tracy. 

It was learned of these that 250 soldiers and over 
100 officers and citizens were in the company, and the 
house completely surrounded. 

"Here Tat/" said Tracy to Crowe. 

The two stepped to one side and Tracy said: 

" Tat/ we are like sardines in a box. I have an 
idea. Three of us -change clothes with the soldiers, 
and get through that way. The others go out by the 
secret way and make a mark of the three fellows for 
the soldiers watching outside. Our clothes on them 

88 



will insure them a funeral. We escape in front; you 
all escape in the confusion, and everything will be 
capital." 

"Very good," replied Crowe with a smile. 

A hasty conference was held, and, the plan 
adopted. Tracy was all animation, and half laughing 
the while. Soon the two larger of the soldiers were 
dressed in Tracy's and Merrill's clothes, and the other 
soldier dressed in an improvised outfit that clad him 
from top to toe similarly. 

Little did the three men know to what fate they 
were about to be consigned. 

It was decided that Longbaugh should accompany 
Tracy and Merrill, as he was dextrous on foot, and all 
knew that it required an iron man to keep pace with 
Tracy. So he was dressed in the extra suit of soldier 
clothes. 

"All ready,' said Crowe. 

"All." Each man answered. 

"Out with, the light again," commanded that in- 
trepid chief of desperadoes, Crowe. 

The big brass oil lamp was extinguished, the 
door opened noiselessly. The three soldiers, Crowe, 
Cassidy and 'Bill the Buffalo' took the underground 
route. The other three desperadoes, guns in hand, 
and clad as soldiers stood near the door. 

"Do you need another drink, Dave?" asked Tracy 
in a low whisper while all silently laughed. 

"About a quart," was Dave's reply. 

89 



In another moment and a low whistle sounded 
that all was ready. To explain the skill of the planner 
of the ruse it need but be said that emerging from the 
tunnel about 20 feet from the cabin Cassidy said to 
the soldiers: 

"Now, run for your lives to your comrades." 

"Yes, but they'll kill us in these clothes," begged 
the Lieutenant. 

"Never mind that," said Crowe; "for if you don't 
run we'll shoot you, at once." 

"What are you a soldier for? Don't you expect to 
be killed?" said Cassidy gravely. 

The three desperadoes leveled their guns. One 
look and the young Lieutenant quickly commanded: 

"Forward, boys, and double quick." 

The three men after advancing 200 feet began to 
call for their companions not to shoot, but, the night 
being bright their garb deceived their comrades, and 
a hundred shots were fired. In fact the portion of 
the command on the north side of the hut poured in 
volley after volley, and rushed forward. They thought 
they had demolished Tracy and Merrill sure. 

It was easy for the three bandits in the garb of the 
soldiers to keep out of direct range, and get to the rear. 
Merrill fired his gun several times, but no other shots 
were fired. 

It required but a few moments for the three men 
to reach the spot where the horses of the pursuers 
were tethered and guarded. 

90 



Several shots were fired at the guard, who, being 
surprised at the firing from their own people, fled 
precipitately. 

In an increditable short time the three men 
had selected the best horses they could find, stam- 
peded the rest, and sped on their way. 

A little over 24 hours later and Harry Tracy and 
Dave Merrill rode through Portland. It was a day 
or more before this fact was known. Their horses 
were bridled and saddled in military trappings, and 
each wore a suit of soldiers' clothes. Merrill showed 
great fear and brought on Tracy's curses in abundance. 

About the same time, at the depot in Oregon City 
four men, in no way apparently related to each other 
are waiting for trains. They have sample cases such 
as 'runners' carry. 

When the Militia discovered their blunder, and 
the cleverness of the ruse practiced upon them they 
could do no better than wait till morning; as the three 
men who could have told them of the purposes of the 
bandits, and who they were, had been riddled witli 
their own bullets. Their horses were scattered for 
miles around, and chagrin became the mother of in- 
action. When morning dawned the hermit's hut was 
deserted, and no clue left as to where the occupants 
were. In the consternation and excitement, Crowe, 
Cassidy and 'Bill the Buffalo' had slipped away. 

Again the combined efforts of police, soldiers and 
citizens were foiled, by the strangest bandit that ever 
walked the earth. 

91 



CHAPTER XI. 

THE FUGITIVES REACH WASHINGTON, FIGHT 
A BATTLE WITH POSSE AT SALMON 
CREEK, AGAIN SET THE OF- 
FICERS TO FLIGHT. 



The last conversation had by the writer with Tracy 
was to have been resumed the next day, but the pursu- 
ers being close at hand he left abruptly, and a ride of 
nearly one hundred miles had to be taken to overtake 
him again. It was not very easy to get to see the des- 
perado, as he was sly of interviews. 

We met, however, at a spot arranged by one of his 
trusted assistants, and as he saluted with his usual: — 
"Good morning, Pardner," a strange twinkle was 
observable in his eye. 

"Did you get away all right again ?" 
"Yes; one close shave, but still alive." 
tff Now, what of your movements up to the time of 
arriving at Chehalis?" was asked. 

"Well, we rode our government horses as long as 
they could stand it, and then turned them out to pas- 
ture. We made for the ferry leading to Ridgefield. It 
was only a couple of miles from where we abandoned our 

92 



horses. I tell you it was a close place. Several posses 
were closing in all around. We saw them a dozen times, 
and eluded them. Merrill began to get pale and scared. 
There was not whiskey enough in Christendom to keep 
up his fighting courage. I had to keep a sharp lookout 
on him for fear he would slip somewhere ." 

"Now, you have the story of the battle with the 
Militia. I did not want to relate that, as I could not 
mention the facts without betraying some one. You 
went to the right person to get the truth." 

"When we got to the Ferry there were two men 
there, both armed. As soon as they saw us they made 
a run for their guns lying near the boat. I ran at 
them shouting: 

"One step farther and Fll kill you at once." 
"Merrill was too scared to shoot, and, I had to do 
it all, and at the point of the gun I ordered: 

"Get that boat over to the other side at once." 

"Who are you — you are Tracy and Merrill, han't 
you?" 

"Yes, sir; now move." 

"We are instructed to watch for you, and to re- 
fuse to take you over." 

"Then die," I said, leveling my gun. 

"Both at once hollowed: 

"We'll do it, but there are officers all up and 
down the river." 

"Quick," I said. 

"At once we were moving, and we landed safe 

93 



on the other side, and plunged into the woods, ran 
for two hours, and Merrill finally gave out. No won- 
der — what we were doing took nerve and great 
strength. He wasn't equal to it." 

"I am a strange sort of a man. I do not fear, 
and, when danger is nearest I am the most sure of 
my business. We were now beyond the jurisdiction 
of Oregon. Of course a requisition was at once given 
to return the fleeing convicts. You can get a requi- 
sition from one 'ass' of a governor as easy as you can 
exchange boots with a bed-fellow, so I knew that 
being in "Washington was like the old 'ax' of the fry- 
ingpan and the blaze." 

"When we got to Eidgefield I said to Dave: 

"Suppose we get a 'mount' here, I never like to 
walk when one can levy tribute on the country." 

"Who was that who said: 

" 'If the enemy has stuff I will not fret/ I be- 
lieve that was Napoleon." 

He was assured he was right, and he continued: 

"I saw a nice farm house, and, we walked up to 
the door. A nice little Miss came to the door and 
said: 

'What is it?" 

"Well, Tard,' I thought of little Eachie at once, 
and felt mighty mean; but, they say necessity is a 
mother, and invention the daughter; and I put on the 
'Indian,' and said: 

"We want something to eat." 



94 



"Are you tramps?" 

"Xo, we are just hungry fellows, that's all." 

"Well did you get your dinner?" 

"I don't know whether it was dinner or supper 
— It was 'grub/ and that is what I wanted." 

"The stuff was good. Merrill looked lonesome, 
and I took the little one to one side and asked: 

"Where is your mama?" 

"She is out, but will be back soon." 

"Let's 'loot' the shop," said Merrill. 

"Not on your life, Merrill; I can kill sheriffs — 
that is fun — I can shoot policemen — that is indiffer- 
ent — I sort of like to shoot fools looking for rewards 
— that is amusement; but children, birds, women — 
cut it out — I am not at home then. Whatever comes, 
I'll see that no innocent ones come to harm." 

"Dave looked 'funny.' He had no more honor 
than a Bohemian. He preferred to kill the helpless; 
but, by the living gods, Harry Tracy never took a 
'mean advantage or abused the helpless." 

When he said this his whole demeanor became 
transformed. He was so changed that he wrought 
real fear by his savage and earnest energy. 

"Well, Pard, I said to the little Miss: 

"Have you any horses in the stable? I am very 
weary and must ride a little." 

"Innocent enough, she replied: 

"TTncle George has two horses all saddled and 
briddled. He is just going to take Miss Adams for a 

95 



ride. He would not mind, if you asked him, if you 
took a short ride." 

"I'll just take a 'spurt/ " I said. 

"Dave, you take the side-saddle. You are half 
a woman, anyhow." 

"Have you anything to drink, my dear?" I asked. 

"Papa has." 

"Where is he?" 

"He has joined the policemen to look for those 
had men who are coming this way from Salem. I hope 
they will not come here." 

"Come, Dave," I said, "get a move on you." 

"We found two fine animals. I mounted the best, 
as I always did. Dave fixed the saddle so it would 
work, and, say, Pardner, I left the only spot where I 
had found purity, honor, honesty and love." 

"We took the horses, hut 'Pard/ I could not be 
so mean. When we got near Kelso I had made a little 
cash. I took a little from one after another; but 
especially from old miser McGuire of Alacenter; and, 
I told Merrill I would send those horses back. He 
got mad, and said: 

"Not as long as I live. I had something to do 
about that." 

"Well, I had to cave in for a while. 

"However, I found a fellow who took the horses 
back while Merrill was sleeping off the 'booze.' He 
fought the 'critter' some time but caved in finally. I 

96 



paid the man $5. I know he took them back, for, 
when I wrote to the little Miss she reported, by a note 
with the fellow who took them back. This is what 
I said to her: 

"Little Miss:— 

"I return the horses, I will pay for using them. 
I am Harry Tracy." 

"It must have caused the little one to jump. I 
meant to be square, Tard.' I do not like cowards and 
men who fight when they have babies, sick folks and 
children." 

ff We spent some time in eluding pursuit after 
this. I had a good shot at a lot of 'scurbs/ and sent 
some 'home to mother'; but, when I calculated the 
whole thing I found I was alone. I had no friends 
who could help me. I had nothing but a stout arm 
and a good gun. I resolved to fight to the end. 

"I had no prpper help from Merrill. I knew he 
was not a safe man." 



97 



CHAPTEK XII. 

THE SHOOTING OF DAVE MERRILL, AND 
HARRY TRACY'S EXPLANATION OF 
THE AFFAIR.— THE REAL REA- 
SON OF THE SHOOTING. 



It has been well said in many Journals over the 
Country that, in all of the desperate acts of Harry 
Tracy, no life had been sacrificed by him save when 
it seemed that his own life or liberty was in imminent 
danger, save and alone in the affair of the shooting 
of his fellow-convict and boon companion David 
Merrill. 

This act may have seemed unnecessary. One 
looking at the desperate deed from the distance of 
safe speculation might say at once that no conditions, 
no small or even great provocations could warrant 
Tracy in sacrificing the life of Merrill. 

But see the situation. Here are two men, now 
bound together by the ties of a common danger. 
Death to both should hold them as fast together as 
the Siamese Twins. Tracy is far-seeing. He never 
gave Merrill a moment to reflect upon the situation 
from the time of their escape from the Penitentiary 

98 



at Salem until they had reached a quiet retreat. Here 
at once Merrill began to show the very traits that al- 
most always make it easy for sheriffs and detectives to 
recover a fugitive. He wanted to give himself up, and 
take chances on the mercy of the officers, the courts 
aud the people. 

Harry Tracy knew that there was no back trail for 
either of them, and gave Merrill to understand that. 
Merrill seems to have imbibed the daring of Tracy, 
or had it in him inherently, for the foregoing chapters 
disclose that he met emergencies and fought with as 
much intrepidity as his companion. He told Merrill 
that it was certain death to do as he finally suggested; 
and, as he expressed it "by the short end of a rope." 
Merrill had the disease known on the stage as "Fright," 
and among deer hunters as "Buck Fever." This con- 
dition, however, was after the several encounters they 
had recently, (before July 1st) engaged in along the 
route of their flight. Tracy no doubt tried his best 
to "brace" him up, but he would continue to wilt. It 
is not correct that Tracy shot him in cold blood and 
treacherously. The fellow got into a panic of fear 
and apprehension. The fear that most possessed him 
was the mob. He often reverted to that to Tracy, 
who invariably laughed and said: 

"We'll give them a dose of the long distance treat- 
ment." 

What finally led up to the killing of Merrill is 
best told in the language of Tracy, which he gave to 

L.ofC. 99 



the interviewer within the past few days, and is sub- 
stantially as follows: 

"After Dave Merrill and I got to the suburbs of 
the Town of Salem we sat under a tree for a short 
time to talk in low tones of our future plans. We 
could hear the ringing of bells and other alarms. Mer- 
rill seemed to be on his mettle, and ready to follow 
my plans, and the plans of my friends for a stroke of 
liberty. I knew no great amount of help could be 
reckoned upon from outside sources, for, however 
much courage and devotion our friends may have they 
do not relish running up against the 'real thing/ " 

"After the killing of Tiffany, however, Merrill 
acted uncertain." 

"I knew perfectly that Dave Merrill and Harry 
Tracy must get to liberty by a most desperate chance, 
and that was to make the Country support us, as a 
great general once said. I proposed this: 

"Merrill, we will keep together and fight our way 
north to Alaska. We can scare food, clothing and 
transportation out of the Country as we go along." 

"Yes," replied Merrill, "the best course now is 
to stick together. We have done that so far and we 
must keep it up to the end. Let's die game." 

"Bully," said I, "and I am yours old 'pal/ What- 
ever happens, now, don't flinch." 

"We shook hands with that strange feeling of 
courage that comes when there were but two men in 
the world known and trusted by either of us. It was 

100 



like being on a raft with one another and the break- 
ers mighty near. We had bought our liberty at a 
price that conld never be paid by either of us but 
with our lives; and I knew that one moment of in- 
decision would be certain death, and that of the most 
despicable character. Do you know the 'noose' is the 
only thing I fear seriously." 

"I made up my mind I never would 'swing/ and 
I never will. Who was that general who carried 
poison in his pockets ready to take if he got licked 
in a fight? I keep no poison but I always keep one 
load in my gun." 

"Merrill and I stuck together from June 9th, 
the day of our escape, till July 1st. Well, when Mer- 
rill and I got to Chehalis after a long journey, as 
related before, we were both very tired. I saw he 
did not have the bottom to him that I had thought. 
He had a good body, but his head would tell him to 
run faster than his legs could carry him. He had a 
wild scared look, and, when I talked of killing more 
people than would satisfy an Idol God, he would 
shake his head and look around as though expecting 
to see the woods full of sheriifs. I said to him: 

"Merrill, you are a coward, I believe." 

"No, Harry; but this business must soon wear 
us both out, and I prefer trying the law and end it. 
A good lawyer may save our necks." 

"Lawyers be hanged, Merrill," I answered; "I 
prefer killing off a few more sheriffs, and when I am 

101 



caught trust that the rope will break rather than trust 
to a lawyer." 

"Well," he replied, "the lawyers have got us both 
out of some hard places. I am going to give up." 

"I then got mad. I admit I have a temper, that, 
when aroused makes me think of nothing but kill- 
ing. He was lying down, but I never lie down when 
any one is near. I never trust my eyes to close, and 
let another man waken me. I have seen men waken 
up on the cold side of 'shut-eye' before now when 
their friends kept vigil." 

"There was something about Merrill now that 
frightened and maddened me. Strange I did not feel 
as most men do when left entirely alone in the world 
with the world against them, that all is up. No, I had 
felt a strange delight when we two shook hands under 
the tree on July 9th; but now I stood alone, and took 
quite as much delight in being able to feel that I 
could cope with the devil single-handed. I curbed 
my anger, and, modulating my voice while I gritted 
the flint off my back teeth, I said: 

"Now, Merrill, you know that to give up at this 
time means certain hanging. You know that would 
involve our friends; and, if I concluded to fight my 
way out you would make my escape almost impos- 
sible." 

"I don't care a . I am going to take care 

of myself after this." 

"I saw something in his eyes that was of the 

102 



tarantula type of monster. My impulse was to give 
him a sound thrashing; but I knew that would only 
consume my strength and make him such an enemy 
as would insure me a free ride back to Salem; or, 
possibly worse, a lead pellet to digest. I made up 
my mind to dominate him with fear, and, hold him 
through fear of me; but, Merrill feared less than the 
sheriffs and deputies. The fellow who is right near 
one sees no God there, generally. I could make a 
dozen of them run, but he looked cool at me when 
I walked up to him. I put on my full features to 
show wrath when I yelled at him: 

''Merrill, Fll kill you as^I would a rat if you at- 
tempt to betray me or try to give yourself up." 

"I presume I said much more, for I swore in 
several languges at him. But here I was with a des- 
perate 'cur/ who had been planning to give me up. 
What could I do? I could never escape and drag 
this traitor along, too, 1 must always have a bullet 
ready for him. He must be plugged in any event. 
When I got through raving he got up on his elbow 
and said as cool as a Kansas cucumber: 

"Tracy, you better not holler and swear quite so 
loud for old 'Buttons' may have a posse out to hear 
you lecture here in the woods." 

"I was so mad and so surprised my teeth would 
not come together for a lockjaw. I thought I would 
then and there batter out his brains with my gun. 
But my father told me many a time never to throw 

103 



off too much ballast in conversation; and never tell 
the other fellow you are going to fight. The thing 
to do is to go at it and have done with it before 
the other fellow has time to get his bearings." 

"I thought, well here is a nice fix. I am worse 
than alone. I had a fellow, who would do me great 
harm, and be almost sure to get me behind the lat- 
tice work. He did not believe me capable of doing 
him any bodily harm. He did not know I would go 
to any length just then to show how I could circum- 
vent men. I knew now that I had a double problem 
to confront." 

"We had both seen the newspapers, and knew, 
if we had not read, that there was a price on both 
of us, and a double one on me. I had all the facts 
in the situation run through my head like a flash." 

"I must act quick. I felt that Merrill, the man 
here on the ground before me, was planning the fu- 
ture for me. He could lay all the recent deeds to 
me, and I do not know but justly. He would have 
full immunity, from the meek-tie party.' I would 
'swing/ His friends would collect the reward, and 
a pardon finally follow." 

"In that short moment I reviewed every phase 
of the situation. I even cursed that kind of execu- 
tion of the law that paid a price for perfidy. I felt, 
as I had many times before, that unjust laws were 
no better than complete anarchy. I had lived where 
men made the law as they went on. Where they 

104 



hung the fellow and heard the lawyer's argument for 
the defense the next day afterwards." 

"What could I do? Could I get hold of his hands 
and feet bind him and leave him? I could then get 
away before he could make an outcry, and be far 
from interception. I could kill him, but I always 
shun killing until the tiger in me is aroused. Then 
I know no fear or favor. I have killed men when I 
thought I must, and only then. I have shot deputy 
sheriffs and officers with perfect stage pleasure and 
animation, when I would not shoot a bird to save me 
from hunger. Do you know, human life is the small- 
est atom of real good there is on earth. When a man 
is a 'cur' — I think the French say 'caitiff — he should 
be killed at once, for he might have rabies and bite 
some one. Merrill looked all 'cur' to me as he lay 
there with an ironical smile." 

"My rifle was in my hands. I never allow it to 
lie down for fear of rust these damp days. I had 
two revolvers in my belt or clout about my middle. 
His rifle lay on the ground. (A bad place for a gun, 
for the mosquitos might pick the lock.) I did not 
propose to kill him just then. I knew he had a good 
revolver in his hip pocket. He never kept his weap- 
ons handy; but, sort of in a nonchalant way he was 
picking his nails on his left hand, with an ugly knife 
in his right. I felt this meant that he was quite 
ready for surprises. He felt that, even if I dared to 

105 



make any move I would not venture the sound of a 
shot." 

"I have found that, whatever the danger, in deal- 
ing with men, if they find you doing what they never 
dreamed you dared to do, they lose their grip at once." 

"Without any intimation of my purpose I struck 
MerrilFs hands with my gun and the knife went spin- 
ning away into the tall grass. He at once sprang to 
his feet, but both hands were so hurt with the blow he 
could not attack me. He gave me one look, and I 
saw terror and anger in his eyes. He had roused the 
tiger in me, and I never stop then. Still, I had no 
intention of killing him then. He never sought his 
rifle, and, as he sprang from the ground his revolver 
fell from his pocket. Another lesson on being ready 
was given me here. His right hand went to his hip 
pocket like a flash. It all happened in a moment. 
He saw I had my foot on his pistol. He sprang to 
one side and began to run. At a distance of S00 
yards was a farm house. Coming towards us from the 
farm house was a man. Merrill ran directly towards 
him calling "Tracy! Tracy!" at the top of his voice." 

"I took my chances on results." 

"I took careful aim for Merrill's body and when 
I knew I had a 'beed' I fired." 

"He fell flat on his face." 

"I knew he was helpless for a while at least, and 
turned my gun on the stranger. I never touched 
MerrilFs body as reported. I did not go near after I 

106 



shot. I was not sure who the other man was, and 
watched close." 

"He was an old man, and, as he passed within 
200 yards of us he never looked. I observed that, 
when the gun went off he looked up to the sky, and 
then plodded along. I rearranged my rifle for further 
action I was re-assured as to the good farmer. He 
was as deaf as a post. He evidently thought he heard 
thunder and looked for clouds. Another piece of 
good luck for — the farmer." 

"Well, I shot Merrill, it is true. I did it as the 
military officers say as a 'deriner resort/ It was liber- 
ty or death. I preferred death — to the other fellow. 
This event, however, is the only one in my escape I 
deeply regret. When I get to heaven I shall fear to 
see Merrill more than any one else." 

The desperado concluded. He wiped his eyes 
with a look of sadness, and, possibly to hide a rising 
tear. He remained pensive a long time; his great, 
hard, steady gray eyes looking as though far into dis- 
tance. 

Tracy, as on former occasions, never placed his 
gun out of his hands during this conversation, and, 
often loosened up the brace of pistols in his belt. All 
appearing to be much of a habit. 

I could not but be impressed with the steadiness 
of every motion, and how his hands and feet never 
made a nervous or unnecessary movement. 

Presently he said: 

107 



"Well, I give you this, again, on the same old 
promise. I will do this to please the men who cleared 
me in Colorado. It may have been wrong ' to kill 
Merrill, but it was a case of deciding quick." 

With this he moved away. I will not say where. 
Who can tell? 



108 



CHAPTEK XIII. 

TRACY ENTERS OLYMPIA.— SEES HIS WIVES. 

—HAS A NARROW ESCAPE, AND QUITS 

OLYMPIA.— TRACY TAKES A 

LAY-OFF TO REST UP. 



After the killing of Merrill, Tracy became more 
bold and desperate than ever. On several different 
occasion he entered houses with the utmost impu- 
nity — took charge of everything — including the pro- 
prietor, and made himself generally at home. 

"After Merrill's death what did you first do?" 
was asked while he stood leaning against a tree where 
he had stationed himself to await the interview. 

"You will understand that I had been putting 
up with his meanness for several days, and I was 
afraid of his treachery. He had his eye on the re- 
ward. A man with a price on his head is a pretty 
good inducement to an informer, who, I knew was 
looking for an opening. If he could have gotten to 
the officers after we left Kelso it would have been 
good bye Tracy." 

Here the outlaw smiled and gave a knowing nod. 
In a moment he resumed in a pensive mood, which 

109 



arose to animation as he proceeded with a startling 
detail. 

"I knew I must have rest; and I could not take it 
near Olympia. I must either get into the city, and 
there meet Florence, Minnie, Jim, and the others or 
I must go to some very safe place. I had food enough 
to last a day or more in a bundle, but, the scores of 
parties out after me everywhere made it pretty 'shaky' 
business to lie down to sleep or rest anywhere. I went 
into a fellow's stable about ten miles from Olympia 
on the Tacoma main road, took a fine horse, saddled 
and bridled it and started north. The fellow did 
not want to lose a good horse, and made an awful 
fuss. So everybody was out in the direction of Ta- 
coma. As I had done before, and had good luck in 
it, I doubled back to Olympia — saw several posses, 
but was never suspected of being their man. I kept 
my weapons concealed, and on July 1st rode through 
Olympia. I took the main street. Now, could I find 
my friends? Sure thing. All I had to do was to go 
to a certain place and read a note written by Florence. 
I give you facts, but know the use of names, generally, 
do no harm. Time and place of meeting must be ar- 
ranged. You know how to put it so no one is hurt. 
All of that was arranged before, and I found my note. 
However, they would never look for me to come into 
town in open daylight — not disguised, except a good 
cold water shave, in which the most obstinate whiskers 



110 



.^ 



still stood up whittled to a; point. Might just as soon 
expect me with a brass band." 

"Did you see any officers?" 

"On all sides of me." 

"Did any one watch you?" 

"Xot that I could see; but, you know, it was my 
business to see as much as possible and not look around 
much. I looked straight ahead, but kept rolling my 
eyes around." 

"Were you discovered?" 

"Yes; and, discovery or detection always comes 
from a sourse you never suspect. If you ever are a 
suspect, take my word for it, and never heed the usual 
remarks, such as these: 

"I saw so and so looking. 

"I heard a noise in the yard. 

"I saw Jones and Smith talking. 

"A strange man followed you. 

"Well, and a thousand such. Just conclude this 
— lay them all before you and say: 

"Trouble will come, but from some unusual 
source." 

"Where did you go in Olympia?" 

"I must not tell that. I have hinted to you 
about names and places. Everything else I will give 
you as correct as I can. I just rode right up to the 
house where I knew my friends were — got off my 
horse and went right in, rapped at the door, and 
waited for a response. I was always afraid Florence 

111 



would make some 'break' as she did at the depot that 
time. I knew Jim and Minnie would be all right. 
The door was, opened, and, behold you, it was Minnie. 
One moment, and I saw she was surprised and quick- 
ly said: 

"Good morning," and raised my hat. 

"Did you come to see mother?" 

"Yes, how is she?" 

"Pretty low — but, you can see her." 

"Better tell her I am here so she will not be too 
much surprised at seeing me." 

"This talk was all right, for neighbors were about, 
and the least shock would start some old 'hen' off her 
nest. Minnie went inside, soon returned, and said in 
a natural tone: 

"She will see you, Charley — come in. But, you 
had better take your horse around to the barn first." 

"I did as directed, but right there is where you 
see a 'cog slipped.' Any one who is 'cute' will get 
onto a convict step. A newspaper reporter of the 
right sort will see farther into a solid rock than a 
mine 'salter.' A little 'cuss' not big enough to make 
a decent shadow, caught my step. This I learned 
afterwards. One never gets rid of that peculiar step. 
He watched me and I never suspected that little 
'squib' of a young fellow. He was on one of the daily 
papers — I forget which — had been a reporter since he 
drew a long breath; and, at once had that sort of bee 
in his hat that makes some fellers see and hear every- 

112 



thing. I never noticed him at all. I saw a big po- 
liceman come towards me as I led the horse around 
to the alley. I saw two men look at me, and actual- 
ly, stop and take a second look. Both may have sus- 
pected, but some men's senses only get to work like 
some geysers — periodically; and they went on. But 
that little thin 'shad* of the 'quills' made a discovery 
as I afterwards knew and went straight at it." 

"I think he was out in that State for his health. 
He had only one lung and he kept elastic suspenders 
to pump breath into his little excuse of a body. I 
saw him, casually, but he no doubt had so little health 
that he did not want, to lose what little he had sud- 
denly, and he never made known his troubles to me. 
If he had I would have prescribed for him at once. 
He would not have had time to say 'mamma.' He 
went to a policeman who never had sense enough to 
get up a decent sweat." 

"These police officers are a sort of moral pretexts 
for law and good order." 

"That is why they are all so fat — none of them 
wear out thinking. Well, they have saved my life lots 
of times, have these old 'brass buttons/ All you got to 
do is to dodge a little and a couple of them will break 
off more lamp posts colliding with them — kill more 
women and children shooting rusty guns with old big 
'paws' both about as useful and ornamental as a bunch 
of bananas and destroy more property than a drove 
of Texas steers. This big 'pug' saved me. As soon 

113 



as the thin 'shad' told him his suspicion the 'lobster' 
with the brass buttons and large blue clothes said: 

"Come in here, Jimmie, oot of the hot soon. We 
can take a small drink and think it over a bit." 
"But we must act quickly," said the 'shad.' 
"Tut, tut, man, I've been at the business for the 
howle of me loife and know how to do it." 
"The big 'lubber' saved me sure." 
"He spent an hour there over his mug." 
"I had not seen Florence much for a good while 
and we had a smart little visit. I soon got sleepy and 
lay on the bed telling the girls to keep up a sharp 
watch. Just at dusk I wakened with hearing Minnie 

"Yes, Florence, I am sure they are surrounding 
the house." 

"I had just been dreaming that I and Florence 
were living together as we did in 'Frisco'; and it was 
a sort of dream heaven. You can imagine the sud- 
den awakening from heaven and finding some hell 
right near." 

"I was on my feet at once, and, taking my rifle 
which lay across the palm of my left hand while I 
slept, and using a small square mirror which was on 
the dresser, I held it out of the window so as to see 
between the buildings on the alley. It was pretty 
dark, but, leaning against the fence, as I could dis- 
tinctly see were two 'coppers.' I could have picked 
them off, but did not dare stick out my head. One of 

114 



the policemen was the fellow I saw when I came in- 
to the alley, and the one who saw the e &f reporter. 
AVell, I thought, this was the only policeman I ever 
knew who had any sense. I did not then know that 
the lean fellow had seen him. If he had gone right 
at it when told I would have been trapped sure. It 
would have given them plenty of daylight. Besides, 
he was now bungling the job by delaying. I turned 
the glass in several directions — went to several win- 
dows, and carefully used the glass. I did not dare 
put out my 'mug' for fear of perforation. I saw a 
whole lot of policemen and other suspicious fellows." 

"I turned to the girls and said: 

"I am strictly in it." 

"Oh, Harry," began Florence. 

"Dry up you 'Ninny/ " broke in Minnie, with a 
stamp of her foot. Then she put her arm around 
the little girl and said: 

"You must not become excited. Now, Hank, old 
fellow, how will you general yourself out of this?" 

"I laughed at her cool way, but, sat down and 
said: 

'^Florence, I am hungry and must have supper." 

"Both women looked at each other in blank won- 
der." 

"We had it all ready for you, dear, but you can 
not eat now." 

"Me, why Florence, I can eat a broiled crow now. 
Take me to it." 



115 



"Minnie laughed and set the stuff before me." 

"I sat down. Both women looked surprised. I 
ate quite a c jag.' I drank a little wine — not too much 
to hurt my thinking machinery. When about through, 
a loud rap came at the door. This was what I ex- 
pected. It was now nearly dark. I was quietly plan- 
ning a mode of escape. I knew the trouble must now 
begin. I said: 

"Minnie, go to the door. Pll stand at the end 
of the hall ready to 'pepper' them. Florence lie flat 
down on the floor and don't move." 

"Here is where the real 'stuff shows in a wom- 
an. She said firmly: 

"No, I'll stand by you." 

"Will you believe it, Pardner, she got a nice gun 
out. It was clean and bright. She fixed it for busi- 
ness and stood just at my side. I looked on with a 
smile. I pushed her behind the stairway a little and 
put my foot against her to hold her there. She would 
not stand for it, and, I told her then we'd kneel low 
down and shoot upwards to avoid a heavy fusilade. 
So we did. She looked pale, but held her gun as 
steady as a veteran." 

"Now, Hank, old boy, steady your nerve and 
don't shoot me." 

"Never mind 'Min,' Harry Tracy never misses his 
man," said the little soldier right there beside me. 

"Pardner," and here the desperado looked in- 
tensely wrought up for him, "I could have fought an 
army then." 

no 



"Steady/' said Minnie. 

"She opened the door wide, and three men in 
plain clothes stood there. Each raised his hat when 
Minnie's handsome face appeared. She looked fine 
just then. She was dressed to Trill/ and 'Min' was 
a good looker. Her grit was up." 

"What is it, gentlemen?" 

"Is Harry Tracy here?" said one. 

"Yes, sir, he is. What is your pleasure?" 

"If I had told her what to say it could not have 
been a bit better. The girl knew me." 

"We want him to surrender." 

'•Will you come in, gentlemen?" 

"This staggered them. They were not the real 
stuff. They weakened, and said: 

"Xo, we want him to step out." 

"Why, gentlemen, he could kill you all now if he 
wanted to do so. If you are square men, and as brave 
as you look, see him. Be careful, Harry, don't shoot," 
said the little 'vixen' as I clicked my gun in an ugly 
way. 

"You are in no danger, come in." 

"We'll confer a moment and return, they said." 
Just what we wanted. It was now pitch dark and no 
big street light near." 

"Now, Hank, are you ready to go?" 

"Yes, I am." 

"How?" 



117 



"Back door — one bound, a few shots rightly 
placed, and Fll leave them." 

"No — too riskey — too many guns." 

"I was 'up the stump/ I sort of trust what they 
call intuition in a woman, and felt a little twisted. 
However, something in the two women sort of made 
me rely on them." 

"I have it. Come!" She took a small lamp and 
we started down the stairs into the basement. Flor- 
ence following close with her gun in hand." 

"In the far side of the cellar she stopped, picked 
up a big round cover to a barrel and showed a large 
drainage sewer, and said: 

"If you haven't eaten too much try it. Ten feet 
over and you are in another basement. There is an 
outside door to it. Here is an old cap. Here is a 
'slicker/ Put them on. Hide your gun. There is 
a shovel in the other basement. Put it on your shoul- 
der and go looking for a job. God bless you, go." 

"Minnie you're a wonder," said Florence. 

"Shut up you little 'tin soldier.' " 

"I gave Florence a parting kiss. I could have 
treated Minnie the same, but did not want to raise a 
dispute." 

"I left. It was easy." 

"Some of those officers still think I am in that 
house, and are lingering around. When they made 
a search, and neither found me nor a trace of me it 
left them the laughing-stock of all Olympia. I saw 

118 



the whole machinery at work to get me. No one 
shot a gun. All were afraid because Minnie kept in- 
viting them into the house to search. I smoked an 
old cob pipe, limped around with my shovel on my 
back and my gun in my boot — heard everything — ■ 
saw everything — took a glass of beer with an officer, 
and said quietly that Fd go home to 'Biddy' and the 
babies, and limped away from the entire Police and 
Detective force of Olympia." 



119 



CHAPTER XIV. 

ONE SUCCESS ENCOURAGES FURTHER DEEDS 
OF DARING.— TRACY CAPTURES A 
LAUNCH AND TAKES A VOY- 
AGE.— SHOWS GREAT NERVE 
AND DARING. 



When Tracy left Olympia he directed his course 
to South Bay. Here he hoped to embark on some 
sort of boat and get to Seattle. Not having seen his 
brother Jim or any one but the women, Jim being 
out of the city as heretofore referred to, he wanted 
now to get of them every assistance within their 
power, and see all together for the purposes of a gen- 
eral "council of war." 

When he reached South Bay he deliberately went 
into a farm house, ordered the unwilling host to get 
breakfast, and in every way showed that he was mas- 
ter of the situation. The good woman was all alert, 
but an obdurate hired man annoyed the bandit. He 
concluded to punish him at once, and, seeing Captain 
Clark's gasoline launch at anchor he concluded he 
must have ample protection; so, ordering the hired 
man, a big Swede by the name of Anderson, (not the 

120 



same Anderson as hereinafter mentioned), to bind 
the entire family. He coolly reserved some rope and 
caused the Swede to accompany him into the woods 
a short distance, telling him to be very still or he 
would be put to death at once; whereupon he bound 
and gagged him — leaving him to his own cool reflec- 
tions. 

. Then began a remarkable experience. It is re- 
cited by one who surely has a good knowledge of the 
strange feats of Tracy up to his arriving at Seattle. 

The launch excited his versatile imagination. He 
saw in it real utility. He studied results. Finally 
he made 'up his mind what to do, and, not being per- 
sonally known he walked straight to the tent where 
Captain Clark and his men were leisurely waiting to 
embark, and asked if he could take passage with them 
to Seattle. The Captain very politely stated that he 
always refused to allow any one on deck; but, he 
changed his mind when Tracy leveled his gun at him 
and counted one, two and stopped. 

He, no doubt, would have shot him at once had 
he not relented. 

The following is a correct rehearsal of the matter 
of the "chartering^ of the vessel" and where he em- 
barked and how he sailed and landed: 

"Single handed he held up six men at South Bay, 
near Olympia, and forced four of them, including 
Capt. Clark of a large gasoline launch, to embark 
with him on Puget Sound, and convey him to Seattle. 

121 



He was in command of the launch from 9 o'clock in 
the morning until 6:30 in the evening, and during 
all of this time his nerve did not weaken for a single 
moment, nor did he leave the least opening which 
might result in his betrayal and capture. So long as 
the crew of the vessel obeyed his commands implicit- 
ly, he treated them kindly, but he announced in a 
positive manner that he would shoot the first man who 
made a move against him. And the nervous, threat- 
ening way he toyed with the trigger of his rifle con- 
vinced Capt. Clark's men that the outlaw meant busi- 
ness. 

Tracy broke in on the little fishing camp about 
sunrise. He walked calmly into the tent facing the 
six men assembled for the morning meal. 

"I'm Tracy," he said. "I want something to eat 
right away. Be quiet and make no fuss and I'll not 
harm you." 

Capt. Clark appeared on the scene while Tracy 
was eating, and the convict silenced him as readily 
as he had the members of the crew. He ordered the 
launch steamed up, even assisting in the work, but he 
gave it out emphatically that he would shoot in cold 
blood the first man who failed to obey his orders. He 
said: 

"I'm captain of this Brig, and every order must 
be implicitly obeyed." 

Steam was up and everything ready for the boat 
to cast off. Tracy ordered four members of the party 

122 



to bind the other two. He wanted all at work. He 
never believed in constipated labor. This was done, 
and, with his unwilling crew and a good deal of cloth- 
ing belonging to the fishermen, the bold bandit set 
out. 

As the little craft, under high pressure, passed 
near the entrances to Tacoma harbor it encountered 
the tug Sea Foam. The master of the latter, who 
knew Capt. Clark, but never suspected the grim na- 
ture of his voyage, kept near the launch, and once 
made as if to crowd up to it. This visibly worried 
Tracy. He grit his teeth savagely and said: 

"I guess I'll take a crack at the fellow," and, 
raising his weapon as if to take aim at the man at 
the Sea Foam's wheel, he kept a steady hand and 
remained as firm and deliberate as a man of bronze. 

Before he could shoot Clark begged him to de- 
sist saying that the Sea Foam's action was only a 
good natured "josh," and that no good could come 
from killing an innocent man. Tracy reassured by 
Clark, and, believing in his honesty, refrained from 
shooting. 

"Why did you wish to shoot the pilot?" was 
asked by the writer. 

"I thought he suspected me, and, I knew one 
shot would send the old shell onto the shoals and put 
the whole crew on the Tram/ " 

ff Was Clark lacking in nerve?" 

"He was naturally a good fellow, and did not 

123 



like a row. Besides, I sort of wanted a pretext for 
killing him. He put on a whole lot of 'dog/ when I 
first met him, so that I thought I should put his 
launch in the hands of an administrator. I could 
not tell how much 'sand' he had, but think he was 
'easy/ " 

"Why did you not stick to the launch? You had 
a good chance to escape that way/' 

"Not so good. I knew they had dogs out for me, 
and kept to the water till I could cure the dogs. Be- 
sides, there were several tugs patrolling the Sound 
looking for me; again, there was no way to rest there, 
and I was too sleepy and tired to stand it any longer 
watching those 'dumbhead' sailors. I must get to 
land/' 

"Did you have some objective point?". 

"I made up my mind to be in Seattle, July 4th. 
I told all my friends I would be there to celebrate 
with them the 'Glorious Fourth.' " 

He never lost his nerve for a moment. Sleepy 
and tired as he must have been. 

He commanded the launch coolly. 

Twice the engines of the launch became over- 
heated. Clark kept the steam up to the highest point, 
being naturally anxious to ship his unwelcome pas- 
senger and to end his unwilling voyage. But Tracy 
was satisfied with a more moderate pace. 

"Don't push her too hard, 'Cap,' said he. "I 
don't want to get to Seattle before dark." 



124 



Twice the launch was stopped and the engines 
allowed to cool down. At such times Tracy would 
entertain his companions with stories of his own 
crimes and escapades. The crew became quite ani- 
mated, and, had he desired could have converted the 
launch into a pirate scout. 

At 6:30 anchor was dropped at Meadow Point, 
which is two and a half miles from Ballard. Then 
Tracy began elaborate preparations to land. First he 
ordered Scott, a member of the crew, to tie and bind 
the others. He seemed to find Scott more to his 
liking than any of the men of the crew. Capt. Clark's 
hands were secured with hemp rope and the others 
were bound similarly, with their hands behind their 
backs and their feet tied with the same stout stuff. 

As he was about to leave the launch he said to 
Captain Clark: 

"My clothing is not very good. Would you not 
just as leave exchange garments?" 

"I have only one good suit," faltered Clark. 

"Well, let's have that. You and I are of about 
the same size. ( Trot' them out, 'Cap/ summer is 
coming and I am afraid moths will get into them.". 

He exchanged clothing with as quiet grace as one 
could imagine. 

When fully attired he asked: 

"How do I look, 'Cap?'" 

"Very well for you," replied Clark dryly. This 
incensed Tracy, and he replied: 

125 



"Look here, f Cap,' — you are an old 'tub.' I would 
rather kill you than not. But, as you are so infernal 
mean I advise you to give me your cash, rings and 
other trash. Be quick or I'll make a cullender out 
of your old carcass." 

Clark obeyed, and the bandit got about $100 in 
cash, some good clothing, and some other valuables. 
He sorted over Captain Clark's effects with quiet in- 
difference. 

Then he ordered Scott to accompany him ashore. 

During the time Scott was with Tracy the out- 
law showed the greatest disregard for human life. He 
wanted to "wing" a man who was engaged in shooting 
at a target and insisted that he would shoot another 
who was jingling money in his pocket as he passed 
the pair. Scott, however, prevailed upon the con- 
vict to do nothing until he was alone, as he (Scott) 
didn't want to get into trouble. Tracy was easily 
persuaded and was even apologetic in his attitude. 

When he was put on shore he kept Scott as a 
companion for a short time; and, when about to part 
company he said to him: 

"You are a decent sort of fellow, Scott, but old 
Clark ought to be hanged. I'll not forget you Scott. 
Good bye." 

Scott turned to leave him; but, sort of innocent- 
ly and mechanically Tracy said: 

"That fellow is a good sort of companion. All 
he needs is a little good advice. I am afraid he is 

126 



going wrong very fast in 'old Clark's' company. He 
is the only man I ever let go without a cord around 
both arms and both legs, with a stiff wad in his 'yop.' 
Scott I'd like yon for a lieutenant, but my business 
is what is called, in the insurance vernacular, ' Extra 
Hazardous.' Here is a little change. Buy you a good 
dictionary, for your education is worse than mine, but 
I like you." 

He gave Scott $25, and the sailor stood still till 
Tracy was out of sight. 



12? 



CHAPTER XV. 

THE CITY OF SEATTLE ALL AGHAST AT 
TRACY'S AUDACITY.— RUNS THE GAUNT- 
LET SEVERAL TIMES AS THOUGH 
FOR LOVE OF ADVENTURE.— 
PUTS IN THE 'GLORIOUS 
FOURTH/ 



Early on the morning of the next day after the 
events of the last chapter, the writer was at a cer- 
tain cottage designated for safety. 

No one there said anything about the now cele- 
brated bandit, though the middle-aged couple seemed 
worried, and remained within the house. During the 
night some shots were heard from the hills, and sev- 
eral came and went; and, from the conversation heard 
in the sleeping apartment assigned to the writer by 
the hosts, either youths or women came and departed 
once or twice. Several men came; and once, the 
writer had to be awakened. The host said loud 
enough to be distinctly heard: 

"The gentleman is a newspaper reporter/' 

fr Well, we must know that/' said a voice. 

A rap at my door, and I said: 

128 



"Come in." 

"Who are you, sir?" demanded a big severe look- 
ing fellow, who, with five others, stood guns in hand. 

"Who are you, sir, that you intrude upon me?" 
was a response. 

"We are officers of the law in pursuit of Harry 
Tracy. Do you know anything about him?" 

"I am only a reporter, sir, and want facts and 
am not giving information. What do you know?" 

"I am Sheriff Gardiner," said he, "and demand 
a full examination of your baggage." 

"Look at anything I have, gentlemen." 

In a few moments they had satisfied themselves 
that all was right; and, with an apology departed. 

An hour later the door was opened quickly, al- 
most ruthlessly, and Harry Tracy entered. He said: 

"Pardner, did you tell anything? No, no, I know 
better— what did they tell?" 

"Nothing of any consequence. They went through 
all I had." 

"Wish I had seen them at it. I never allow a 
gentleman, a child or a woman to be insulted in my 
hearing, within my 'bailiewick' or of my knowledge." 
He looked perfectly savage, but, at once resumed: 

"Come, old Pardner, let's have a good stiff break- 
fast. Fve been out all night, and, Tard,' I'll do what 
I never did before, sleep where another man, except 
my 'pals,' see me." 

We had an early breakfast of mountain trout, 

129 



good bread, fried eggs, German fried potatoes and 
other good things. We both felt in good spirits. I 
furnished the wine, and Tracy told his story in piece- 
meal as he ate. He related the events of several 
days past, but gave no account of his experiences of 
the past night. 

"Where did you go while in Seattle?" 

"I'll tell you all about it some day; but, I do not 
now want to give information that might implicate 
some good fellows. I have help now, and I must not 
endanger them. My old 'pals' tell me I am like the 
parrot that got the dog mad and lost its best tail- 
feathers. When that bird got through it said: 'I 
talk too much/ If you will take this of me kindly 
Fll reward you later. Just cut out the Seattle busi- 
ness, except as you have it from a mighty good au- 
thority. Let it come from some one else." 

"Well, now, without obtruding, did you meet 
Jim, Florence your, wife and Minnie?" 

"Yes, had a fine time, 1 — put in the 'Glorious 
Fourth/ and mixed up with the police and sheriffs. 
We had no firecrackers, but I consumed some powder. 
I believe a feller ought to celebrate a little, even if 
he don't believe we are so 'awful much' as a strip of 
country. I like the fellows that made the 'Fourth' 
worth celebrating, but have small use for the ones who 
now celebrate. Florence was prettier than ever, and 
Minnie was immense. I saw that she and Jim were 
in love up in 'G.' It amused and pleased Florence 

130 



to see them thick. I was glad of it, for that little 
wife was always mighty precious to me." 

"Were you in and out of Seattle more than once 
July 3rd, 4th, 5th and 6th?" 

"I went in and out of that town three times. At 
Bothell I cleaned up a whole posse. There is where 
I shot Carl Anderson and Louis Seefrit, the newspaper 

fellows. They got in my way. What in h -1 does a 

fellow with a 'quill' and 'neglige' soft shirt want to 
'monkey' with a threshing machine?" 

"How did the fight occur?" 

"Well, I told the girls and the others I would go 
out and set the police off on a 'wild goose' chase, while 
we enjoyed the 'Fourth.' So I went to Bothell, where I 
knew a bunch of 'worthies' were in for excitement and 
adventure. I like to satisfy these 'bumpkins' when 
they are looking for trouble, and had them meet me 
full face." 

Charlie Eaymond was the big 'bloat' of the gang. 
He had been blowing his 'bazoo' about killing me for 
a long time. He saw me coming up a straight piece of 
road. He must have felt sorry for his chance to kill. 
I saw him first. I put a clever 'dummy' that I had 
prepared for the occasion, back in the woods, into my 
saddle and fastened it upright like a man; and as soon 
as I saAV the lot going to 'cover,' slid off the old bron- 
cho, and into the brush. It was done so quick, and 
it being nearly dusk they never caught on. They 
were putting up an ambush right under my nose. I 

131 



thought if that was all they knew about war Fd teach 
them how to 'cock a cannon/ " 

"As I said before, I slid off the old lame broncho 
and took a 'side track/ It was just at dusk and I 
could have escaped them easy, but just as the old 
'bronk' went innocently up to where the ambush was 
laid, bang, bang, went the 'gun fodder/ I suppose 
the old 'bronk' was scuttled with bullets, and the' 
'dummy' badly perforated. The 'bronk' must have 
thought the 'Fourth of July' very near. The beast 
looked surprised, and just flew. The dummy reeled 
as though 'groggy/ but kept the saddle like a good fel- 
low. I was sorry to put up such a mean trick on the 
'broncho/ but it will happen, you know. Thin ani- 
mals must be used somehow. How he switched his 
tail, and flew up the road. Just then four or more 
fellows jumped out in the clear, and began to 'pepper' 
the 'outfit' from the rear. They must have wondered 
if Tracy did not bear a charmed life. Time was ripe 
then, and I came right out in the clear and called out: 

"Surrender, you idiots." 

"You ought to have seen them. You can almost 
feel a surprise in the atmosphere. Eaymond had some 
game and with a big oath, such as I would not want 
to die on, he began to open the 'dance/ The fellow 
was 'game' after all. He stood right out in the clear 
and took his medicine like a little man/ " 

"I knew it was business, and took the initiative 
as they say/' 

132 



"First shot and Eaymond was beyond." 

"I gave him one for luck after he fell." 

"Next shot and John Williams, another sheriff, 
was put out of calculation." 

"I hit two more, but they were not badly hurt. 
They dropped their guns and limped off." 

"'Just as I began to 'pepper' in the rear a lot who 
were clambering up the stony hill, and getting under 
cover, two fellows shot at me point blank in the mid- 
dle of the road. I turned half around, and, knocked 
Scefrit and Anderson, the newspaper 'quills' out of 
the active 'staff.' " 

"That was all. I went back to Seattle on a bet- 
ter horse than I went out. I never heard of my old 
'bronk' or the 'dummy.' I rode openly into Seattle 
about eleven o'clock that night. The newspapers 
were soon out on 'Extras,' and scores looking for Tracy 
20 miles away. I must leave j^ou to 'fill in' now as 
best you can, and I must get some sleep. Would you 
object to remain here at this house until I get my 
nap?" 

Of course it was imperative, and, while the cele- 
brated bandit slept soundly for two hours, the details 
of his startling adventures, as partly rehearsed by him. 
while at breakfast, were fully given to the writer, aud, 
in brief they were as follows: 

After abandoning the launch Tracy did nothing 
more exciting until he encountered the advance guard 
of the Seattle posse at Bothell, where from behind a 

133 



high stump, he kept up such an effective fire on the 
pursuing party that two of its members were killed 
and four were wounded. 

This event Tracy has fully and correctly detailed 
to the writer, as heretofore related in this chapter. 
As usual Tracy got away and nothing more was heard 
from him until late that evening when he walked 
boldly up to the house of Mrs. E. H. Van Horn who 
lived in the suburbs of Seattle and demanded food 
and clothing. He had in the meantime held up a 
farmer and captured, not only the farmer's house but 
the farmer as well and using him for a bodyguard, 
went about with the utmost impunity. 

"If you don't make any noise you are safe." Tracy 
remarked on entering Mrs. Van Horn's residence. 

He proceeded to make himself perfectly at home, 
ordered a meal cooked exchanged clothes with a man 
who happened to be visiting there, and would un- 
doubtedly have got away without being compelled to 
shoot his way to liberty had it not been for the butch- 
er's boy who called to deliver goods while Tracy was 
at the table. Mrs. Van Horn succeeded in telling the 
boy what was going on and he sounded the alarm, with 
the result that two members of the sheriff's posse 
were killed. The officers surrounded the house so 
that they might intercept Tracy when he came out, 
but here again his cool judgment served him well, for 
he walked between two mmbers of the Van Horn 
household, whom he had pressed into service with the 

134 



muzzle of his rifle. The officers dared not shoot for 
fear of killing the innocent. When he finally began 
the fight, E. F. Breece, a member of the Seattle po- 
lice force was the first to fall. Ignoring the advice 
to keep under cover and to shoot from ambush he 
walked boldly to within ten paces of the bloodthirsty 
outlaw and shouted: 

"Throw down your gun, Tracy." 

Without waiting for matters to progress further 
Tracy wheeled about and began firing. Breece top- 
pled over and sank to the ground dead. The bandit 
laughed outright at his well directed aim, and, when- 
ever any one showed a disposition to battle the un- 
erring aim of Tracy took him off the active list of 
combatants. He singled the most obtrusive out first, 
After two or three had fallen he turned his attention 
to another squad coming at him. Then Neil Eawley 
was hit by one of Tracy's bullets and expired on the 
spot. Still the desperado kept firing and looking for 
more victims. When there was no longer any one in 
sight he turned and ran, disappearing in the dark- 
ness. It was an eventful day for Tracy, but it was 
not unlike the others that have passed since he 
escaped from the Oregon prison. 

At the end of the deep sleep of just two hours 
which the desperado seemed to enjoy, he awakened, 
almost exactly on the time he had intended, and, at 
once said: 

"I believe if I had a game of cards I could feel 
pretty well." 

135 



"Will I call in some one?" asked our affable host. 

"Yes, use the most careful signals." 

In a few moments four others joined the group, 
as mysteriously as though risen from the earth. The 
company now consisted of three women and four men. 
We had a good game and much amusement. Only 
one seemed worried. She seldom took her eyes off 
the man who seemed most jovial. The wife sighed as 
a seeming omen of some impending disaster to the 
man for whom she had abandoned home, honor, friends 
and everything. 

What constancy there is in a true woman! 



23G 



CHAPTER XVI. 

HOW TRACY PLANNED TO GET BACK AT 

HIS PURSUERS.— GETS EVEN WITH 

SHERIFF CANFIELD. 



Tracy related the following while we were rid- 
ing through a picturesque spot in the cascade moun- 
tains, side by side on horseback: 

"After enjoying the ' Fourth' and celebrating our 
country's lack of Independence I began to think of 
how I could even up with Sheriff Canfield. I read 
in a morning paper about the 6th or 7th of July 
about Canfield's boasts. He said, as I recollect: 

" Til do nothing else till I capture Harry Tracy, 
dead or alive.' " 

"Now, Parclner, I tell you that was tall talk for 
old Canfield, and I took a vow, but didn't get it into 
the first issue of the morning papers, as I had no 
good and safe reporter at hand, and one, I saw from 
the newspapers — the little 'cuss' I told you about — 
at Olympia had done me a 'nasty' turn. I took a vow, 
I'd retire Mr. Canfield. See!" 

Tracy was a fine rider, and, as he said this he 
straightened up like a born equestrian. He sat on a 
horse like an Indian. 

137 



"I'll meet him and prove to all that 'braggarts' 
never show good material in a fight/' 

As he said this he looked as firm as a rock. 

"Well, you will recollect the' newspapers came out 
all about 'Can's' boast. He must have stuck out his 
chest big then; but, Pardner, I find that these fellows 
who are so damned full in the chest are a little hol- 
low in the back. I sent him this note: 

"Dear Mr. Canfield:— 

"When you go out for a fight — be sure you are 
ready. Harry Tracy always is ready." H. T. 

"Along about the 14th or loth of the month the 
papers came out as you know, that Canfield had 
severed his connections with the 'outside world.' I'll 
show you why. I was boiling hot, and, forgot I was 
bound for safety in the 'Hole in the Wall' country, 
where I would be in 'cold storage' for a while. I 
went on a hunt for Canfield. The name was very 
much the same as that of the other 'cuss' who gave 
me trouble in 'Frisco.' " 

"I would have sprinkled blood on the moon just 
then, bat couldn't find a ladder long enough. Be- 
sides, I thought I'd wait for old 'Can's' blood." 

"The chance came.'" 

"They say everything comes to the fellow who 
waits. I prefer helping things along when a little 
slow coming." 

"I gave it out I was hunted down and reported 
sick. These fellows prefer tackling me when Fm sick. 

138 



I was wounded five or six times in all, but only} slight. 
I doctored them up and only one on my leg bothers 
me a little." 

"I moved around Covington near Seattle, and 
watched for the 'bum' sheriff. I saw his posse several 
times, but had no use for the 'bunch. 5 I had a lit- 
tle Indian' blood in me, and wanted a 'war dance' 
around old ''Can's' anatomy for to while away some 
unoccupied time." 

"One day, in a dark strip of woods I watched the 
posse comei to a halt. At this time, and all along aft- 
er I left Seattle, I had from three to a dozen helping 
me along." 

"They helped me now in my plans for revenge." 

"The sheriff's men all looked tired. Most men 
come into the world with the old 'coon' song pinned 
on their 'clouts' — 'I'm so very tired.' After a long 
eating contest and some tall conversation, in which 
all concluded they were brave men, Canfield said: 

"Boys, I want to reconnoiter. I believe I can 
bring back something like good information." 

" 'Better not go alone,' said a 'wise guy.' " 

"He knew his business and I complimented him 
there and then — not out loud. But 'Can' had eaten 
some 'New York Cheese' and drank 'Kentucky Raw- 
hide'; and, so he said: 

"Tm going. You'll see me soon. If not, go to 
Black Diamond and wait for me there.' " 

"'Don't go, Sheriff,' said a lot of the follows; 

139 



and 'drat' them I was afraid the Bourbon was wear- 
ing off old 'Can's' nerves, and began to limber my 
'parrot gun/ and work my feet in the earth for 'nerv- 
ous debility.' I saw these fellows would follow the 
old 'ax' — 'Better be a live coyote than a dead hero/ 
But 'Can' was going to be real stout, and that was 
his undoing." 

"He made great ado. He buckled, pinned, felt 
the edge of knives, and went into a general trade in- 
ventory of his personals. He passed close to me, and 
went on. I followed. I saw him all the time but he 
never got a 'smell' of me.. I kept after him for a 
mile. He seemed to know where he was going, and, 
finally brought up at a small 'shack' in the clearing. 
Here he reconnoitered for a half hour, and then 
walked as brave as a lion, (a cub lion I mean), right 
to the door. He went in. I made observations, and 
knew no one was there, or if there, asleep. I knew 
I would either see 'Can' take to his heels or hear a 
conversation. My ears are very sharp, and, using a 
little ditch or 'swan 1 ' to crawl in, I got close to the 
'shack.' I heard nothing, and made a dash for the 
door." 

"It was open — there was old 'Can' fast asleep. I 
almost yelled, but only thought out my 'warhoop/ as 
still as a mouse — What a 'peach!'" 

"He was seated on a bench and leaning up in a 
corner. The hard walking, the galvanized New York 
cheese and the 'Booze' had done the business — I had 

140 



very little to do. These sheriffs are used to soft seats 
— reclining chairs — good 'grub' — nice wives, and a lot 
of other good easy things. Hard usage will give them 
the "Pollevil' or the 'Jim-Jams/ called gout. I went 
up to old 'Can' saying: — 

"You old bag of atmosphere, if it was not so in- 
fernal easy I'd blow off your roof!" 

"Pardner, I was mad to have it so one-sided — 
Fact, I was," and here Tracy for the first time looked 
real sorry. 

"I got his official badge, guns, knives, and $127 
in cash. When I extracted the cash he wakened up. 
That hurt him worse than losing his badge or a leg." 

"His face looked like one of the early maps of 
Ireland — A desert waste — and shapeless. I stood and 
laughed right out. He could not find his voice, and 
to help him out I said: 

" 'Now, old 'guzzler' here is Tracy. Will you 
take a gun and step across this room and count one — 
two — three — 'Fire! Come, here are five good guns, 
you can have your choice; most of them once be- 
longed to sheriffs.' " 

"Are you — no — impossible." 

"Come on, old cock, you are right at home as a 
fighter. We do not need seconds. Get up and take 
your corner. If you don't, Harry Tracy will do both 
the counting and the killing." 

"His face got so white it turned to the color of 
an old clay pipe." 

141 R 



"Get up I tell you, or I'll help you. If you can't 
I'll plant one of my number tens under your trousers." 

"He looked the very coward he was. I felt too 
much contempt for him to use my gun." 

"Can we not compromise in some way?" he be- 
gan. "I can't afford to be killed in cold blood. I 
have children and — and — and — ." 

"Well, he told me enough, so I said, (seeing I had 
my revenge); 

"Give me a sheriff's badge. I'll furnish the 
clothes, and, we'll travel together." 

"This was arranged; and the partnership of Tracy 
and Canfield, without any formal articles, was formed 
then and there." 

"We became very companionable; and I trusted 
him quite a little. He said he had not reported the 
newspaper 'rot,' about killing me 'on sight,' and said 
he was out trying to do his duty. We were together 
a couple of days, and he never played me 'dirt.' I got 
so I liked the 'feller.' He could have killed me sev- 
eral times, but had too much honor to do it; and, 
Pardner, when I got into a close spot at Sluice Creek, 
where they all thought I was 'up the stump/ I 'cut' 
my acquaintance with him quite informally, ancl 
'slipped my cable.' That was one of the closest cor- 
ners I ever had. It was dark and the woods thick 
and the officers lost me again." 

"I have had many officers at my disposal whom I 

142 



vowed, to kill, but, when the time came, and they 
were in my power I have weakened." 

"Now, Pardner, I must leave you for a while. Be 
sure and stay at that cottage yonder, for fear you are 
injured in some way. I can not always protect my 
friends. If you are questioned close show that little 
snake coil ring, and no friends of mine will molest 
you." 

With this he rode off on a path to one side and 
disappeared. I wish I could have taken a 'snap shot'" 
at him just as he waved a farewell, as he sat so statue- 
like on his great tall borrowed roan stallion. He 
liked a good horse, despised owning one that he did 
not buy honestly, and, afterwards paid the owner for 
this one, as it particularly suited him. Horse and 
rider were unique to sublimity. 

The writer has seen equestrians of the most noble 
bearing, statues of heroic size and sublime lineaments 
and figures of centaurs that belied any emulation, 
but in all, and all in all, nothing ever ap- 
proached the splendid bearing of the bandit, desperado 
and all around adventurer Harry Tracy, as his mount 
and he stood out in admirable relief against the green 
hills, tall rocks and general sublime scenic effects of 
the cascades of the historic Columbia. 

May we be forgiven for admiring this strange, 
sublime freak of noble, 'strenuous' manhood, con- 
trasted with the faltering semblances to mighi and 
right that traverse the earth in borrowed black or pur- 
chased gaud! 

143 



CHAPTER XVII. 

CHAPTER OF REAL TRAGEDY, MUCH A- 
MUSEMENT AND ACTUAL FUN.— TRACY 
SHOWS MORE VERSATILITY AND 
SKILL THAN EVER.--TRIPS UP 
POLICE.— SHOWS AUDACI- 
TY IN DEMANDS, AND 
GETS BEYOND HARM 
AS USUAL. 



On a beautiful day in the latter part of July A. 
D. 1902, the writer was gliding along in a canoe, on 
the Columbia River near Waterville, Washington. 

Harry Tracy, the most daring desperado of Ameri- 
ca, was seated in the stern of the frail craft, with a 
rifle laid across his knees. Near him sat two hand- 
some Indian lads, all decorated and beaded in the 
most modern plan of Reservation gilding. Both lads 
were as fair as maidens of pure Caucasian blood, save 
the tan and hardness of facial outlines occasioned by 
wind, rain, dew and great exposure. 

Handling the oars were two brawney Indians, of 
Reservation garb, but in all respects bearing, as do 
the lads, the type of pure white blood. Of course 

144 



the writer knew who they were, and enjoyed their 
fullest confidence. 

"Are you not afraid to be with us?" asked the 
smaller of the lads, in pure girlish accentuation, that 
fully betokened her identity even had not the writer 
known it before. 

"Not in the least," was the response. 

"Are you not subjected to unusual surveillance?" 
asked the other. 

"I am compelled now to submit to a complete 
search and open reveal of everything they can get at. 
I tell nothing, but show the officers (most) every- 
thing. 1/ do not intend to violate the law, but respect 
a promise quite as highly as the law, if they do not 
conflict." 

"Law," broke in Tracy, with a ferocity that must 
have sent a chill through all; "Law, that damnable re- 
semblance to authority, where a band of desperados 
go abroad, without writ or other authority to demand 
of a man who is as free as they are to surrender to 
them. Why, Pardner, if I had the law, honorably 
applied, to deal with, not one in ten of those I 
have shot, as they say, in 'cold blood' would be 
avenged by the written law. Men, by thousands look- 
ing for a man 'dead or alive' with all manner of guns, 
all kinds of money and with the use of human as 
well as brute bloodhounds, and not a writ of any kind 
to show authority. I'll bet the requisition between 
the two old 'stodenbottles,' the governor of Oregon on 

145 



the governor of Washington has as many holes in it, 
as mother's old cream skimmer had in Kansas." 

The man grew livid with rage, as he continued: 
"Pardner, I want you to tell it. I have never 
had a person who thought he was a great respecter of 
law, do me a square deal but you. I tell you a broth- 
er-in-law of mine, under the pretext of law, got me 
into jail for the first time in my life; and, he never 
stopped till I lost all I had when a boy, including my 
good name. I was a daring, rude little 'cuss' it's true, 
but I never saw the day I would not fight to kill to 
help a friend. I only have a few who are near me 
now. I think a whole lot of you all; but a treacher- 
ous, pretended friend is worse than a hundred open 
enemies. You know, Pardner, I never spoke much of 
my brother-in-law. I refrained from telling you of 
him, for our dea* little Eachie — the one that is dead, 
and in heaven, if there is such a place; — told me not 
to hurt him. She made me promise I never would, 
and, I have kept my promise. But, though Florence 
there is the next to her in goodness, she knows of 
that trouble. I believe she would hold little Eachie's 
hand and say: 

" 'Harry, it was too mean — Kill him.' " 
Here the desperado looked from shore to shore, 
motioned to the oarsmen, took Florence's hand in his, 
across the seat where the writer sat, and, went on: 

"Law; Why, Pardner, you know somewhat of it 
— you have seen law work more evil then good. You 

146 



have seen it, for I have seen you in the shops where 
human law is measured out." 

"I — well — " Here he almost choked with rage, 
and one of the lads spoke up: 

"Cut that out,. Hank. If you don't, you'll get 
'nutty.' " 

All laughed at the good natured rudeness. 

"Think of nothing nbw, Harry, but your liberty," 
interposed Florence. She was serious. 

"We will stay with you to the end," said the other. 
The girl Florence grew morose, and tears fell from her 
eyes. 

"Oh, don't be so solemn, Florence. I shan't allow 
this serious business. Trust Hank to get out. Leave 
it to my Indian Jim to cut a swath to the 'Hole in the 
Wall.' " 

"If I ever get there and have all of you, I'll pull 
the hole in after me," laughingly said Tracy; who, as 
usual, was ready to be diverted from any unpleasant 
recollections. 

"Come," said the writer, "tell us of how you treat- 
ed the Swede, Anderson." 

"Yes, go on Harry," said both lads. 

"Better sing something," said Jim. "I feel kind 
of homesick." Jim Tracy was less talkative than the 
reckless and daring brother. In recent months he had 
grown taciturn. He was more dangerous in that res- 
pect, but he had some sentiment, while Harry had 
none. 



147 



"Yes, girls, sing ( Sweet Home' or something/' 
broke in the bandit smilingly. 

The writer would have interposed, bnt said nothing 
for fear of offense. 

In the midst of the River, with at least one hun- 
dred men then in immediate pursuit, and thousands 
in the wake of this wonderful meteor of crime and 
invention, these two women broke into the old song, 
and its notes were simply delectable. The evening 
shades were beginning to settle, and the tall trees and 
great hills added accompanying solemnity to their su- 
preme voices. It was a duet of strange and weird sen- 
sation. It was a marvelous presentation of pathetic 
notes in a wild, dangerous, sublime and awful environ- 
ment. "When it was all done the company was exceed- 
ingly depressed. The writer marveled at the risk of 
such an open display, but, in reality it invoked less dan- 
ger than silence. All had grown pensive, but Minnie 
O'Rell never lacked the quickening power, and broke 
in: — 

"Hank tell us what you did to the Swede, Ander- 
son." 

The desperado glowed with interest at once and 
amiably, after a few amusing remarks at the expense 
of his restlessness in traveling the 'back trail/ etc., he 
proceeded: — 

"When I left Seattle I felt the spirit of 1776 all 
around me, and felt that the battle at Seattle was too 

148 



tame. I wanted a good fight where we had a good 
clear field and plenty of marks to get at." 

"I think the fight at Seattle awful," said Flor- 
ence. 

"It was a good fair battle," said Minnie, "and the 
boys cleared the streets from one end to the other." 

"We had them at all points," said Jim seriously. 

"How every one flew to cover when Hank and Jim 
began shooting fast," said Minnie. 

"Well, to begin with, I never had more fun in my 
life. I went straight to old Johnson's ranch. I knew 
of him, and went right at him. I had run out of some 
clothing. I had to leave bunches along the route to 
get rid of heavy ballast when things looked tough. I 
made the old 'rooster' put up a nice bundle of clothes 
and food. The old ones scolded and called names. As 
they acted sort of mean I took a bed cord and tied up 
father, mother, daughter and a lump of a son. I put 
a pine knot in each of their jaws, and there they were, 
gnawing the resin out of the gags. The hired man, 
a 'chump' named Anderson, began to show some fight, 
and took off everything down to his suspenders, asking 
me to come out on the lawn, to wipe the earth with 
me. Well, I felt pretty good, and said: — 

"Now, Anderson, you are a big man, but I'll fight 
you." ' 

"I guess you bin before fight whole lot, but I not 
afraid of you. I fight purty good, too." 

"I thought, Tiere it goes,' and took off my coat. 

149 



A fight with fists made me laugh. I liked bullets. 
This 'hammer and tongs' business never was much to 
my liking. But it was fun, and I drew the scratch. 
It was sport for your life to see the big Swede get 
ready. When he had most of his clothes off, I said: — 
'Come on you big 'pug.' ' I wanted to work him up. 
There was the scratch before him." 

"Carl walked up to it, and looked quite up to 
Queensbury rules. I left gun and pistols within easy 
range. The whole Johnson outfit were bound and 
gagged inside, so there was little danger. I wanted 
a fight. I used to handle my 'mauls' pretty good, 
and wanted a 'bout' to see what I could do." 

"As soon as Carl got to the line, I gave him a 
slap on the jaw that would have knocked the cornice 
off a church. He was completely dazed. It was only 
a side open hand 'swipe,' but, having no knowledge 
of the art of mashing countenances or receiving pun- 
ishment comfortably, he was on the queer. He be- 
gan to look along the grass as though searching for 
his wits, and the dislocated jaw bone, when I said: 

"'What's the matter, Carl?'" 

"I been loose my whole set top teeth. I just been 
bought them a few days. I like to have them, and 
I fite after while." 

" 'Come on, you donkey/ I hollered, as I danced 
in front of him. Smash went my left fist on his nose. 
The blood flew and he called out: 

" 'I don't can see one dam bit. I loose my whole 

150 



set teeth, and now my nose been bleed whole lot, no 
can nte more now/ " 

"Before he could say another word I gave him 
a blow on the chin that must have extracted the rest 
of his teeth. He went down on all fours in the grass, 
and I gave him several lifts with my walking gaiters. 
He hollered: 

" 'I ready to quit now to been do any ting you 
say.'" 

" 'Good, Carl'; I said, 'You are a good fighter, but 
you are a little out of practice/ " 

"I put the Scandinavian in a boat, and made him 
do service for several hours as oarsman. He showed 
me great respect, and I treated him pretty well till 
I got where I must sever our relations." 

"Near Eenton I stopped my Swede and said: 

" 'Carl, do you want me to help you rob a house 
here?' This old farmer here has lots of money, and 
you and I can get it.' " 

u 'Me no like rob house. Dam jail too near. I 
been only once in jail. I no care again.' " 

"Carl looked serious enough to be excused from 
any sort of burglary. He looked real scared." 

"This amused me, and I said: 

" 'Come, Carl, we must rob this place. Get out. 
— tie the boat — here is a gun. Now, are you ready?" 

" 'Me had good plenty flte. No like more hurt.' " 

"I almost laughed in his big face." 

"He stood holding the gun between his thumb and 

151 



first finger watching my fun in blank doubt of the 
cause, as he again said: 

" 'I don't like dam pistol. He go off sure ting 
when not looking. I be hungry, but no want steal 
money.' " 

" 'Come on, you big 'stiff/ I said, and gave him 
a 'thump.' " 

"He gave in at once, and said: 'Me go right away 
quick, quick.' " ; 

"We went into the house. I was so amused at 
the Swede that I did not look around as careful as 
usual. We got into one room the whole household 
of five members — two being the father and son, both 
strong men; and the others being the mother and 
two daughters. My outfit was still a little on the 
'bum.' We got food, clothing, $86 in cash, and lots 
of nick-nacks, rings, breastpins, watches, etc., Ander- 
son looked scared all the while. We ate everything. 
Not even fear will hurt a Swede's appetite. When we 
were eating a big raspberry pie a loud pounding was 
heard at the front door. I gave the last end of the 
pie a twist and down it went. Then I said: I 

" 'Officers we are all in here, I am Harry Tracy 
and ready for business. If one of you will move I'll 
kill you like rats.'" 

"Again came a perfect battering at the door. I 
grabbed the Swede by the shoulders — I put a pistol 
in his hand — I told him I'd shoot him full of lead if 
he did not kill the first man at the door — I pushed 

152 



him up to the door — I commanded the oldest girl to 
open it. — There stood the lubbers' in a bunch, as 
usual, ready to be killed — I sent three bullets into 
those in front so quick that today the Swede does not 
know who did the shooting. In a moment those who 
were able to get off took to the woods. I knew the 
house was surrounded, and at once took ' the Swede 
by the shoulders, and drove him ahead of me at the 
rate of 45 miles an hour for timber." 

"Our assailants were in consternation, and did 
not see us. I took off Anderson's suspenders, and a 
vest. I made rope and a gag. I put my knees on 
him, and made him as dumb and compact as an oyster 
in the shell. When I got through with that Swede 
'he looked like a dried mummy. It is a wonder he 
did not smother to death. But you know you can't 
kill a Swede except with extreme kindness and a sharp 
ax. I am told the fool lived. A smart man would 
have died out of good common sense and chagrin." 

"Well, how to get off? I made a circuit. Now, 
if I tell you, you'll not believe it, but I'll bet there 
were scores, yes, hundreds of people about that house. 
When they saw old Carl shut out from the beautiful 
world with a bunch of his own vest, they must have 
felt strange. I am told one sensible fellow laughed 
and surrendered his commission. I made for the boat. 
Why, twenty fellows stood guard there, and I began 
to think. I was liable to be a mark for a rifle any 
moment. I took a chance and walked away. Noth- 

153 



ing like it. Indifferently I went along, concealing my 
weapons about me. I was soon on the clear road, be- 
ing met every minute by persons going to see Tracy 
killed. I went right on like a good honest farmer 
with my gun as usual, in such emergencies, down in 
my pants. I walked lame, and 'mosied' along. I 
looked innocent enough. Often I have been accosted, 
but indifference is the badge of confidence; and con- 
fidence is spelled with a *Con' — See!" 

"Now FU tell you where I began to shiver like 
a dog in a sleet. I had gone about three miles — play- 
ing innocent, but carrying money, diamonds, clothes, 
watches and other contraband of war — when I heard 
a dog baying — Pardner, did you ever hear blood- 
hounds! Did you ever know of a man pursued by 
them! — You have heard of Eliza, and that 'rot' in 
'Uncle Toni's cabin' story, but have you seen the real 
thing?" 

"I listened with some nervous attention. I soon 
heard at least three voices of those frightful beasts. 
My blood stood as still as though the frost had con- 
gealed every drop in my veins! What now! "Where 
could I go! Who could I see! Where! What! 
When!!" 

Here the bandit looked what he said. 

"What did you do, Hank?" asked Minnie inno- 
cently. 

"Well, you know, Minnie. I began to think. I 
knew of one place where I could find friends. It was 

154 



near night. I must reach that spot. I flew. I ran 
as I never did before. I have had footraces galore, 
but this was racing with death. I was before the 
hounds' — bloodhounds — about four miles. I had 
about four miles more to go. I had wind enough 
to fill a two master in full sail. I just flew. T 
dropped the clothes I stole. I shed my coat and hat. 
I threw off the grub. I got rid of all the heavy stuff 
available, and made the race of my life. Bloodhounds 
and Harry Tracy in a contest for life!! If I got to 
the ranch of Henry Morse, near Kent, I might beat 
them. I had beaten dogs before, and I had plenty of 
water and a boat. I could hear the baying of the 
dogs a half mile back. I had only a few rods more 
to go; but I could feel the blood running from my 
mouth. I had ruptured a vein. Could I stand the 
strain and loss of blood. I nearly choked with the 
flow of blood. I never stopped. I was within 500 
yards from the house, when all of a sudden the fierce 
bark of a hound convinced me the foremost dog was 
very near. "Would he get me before I got to the door! 
Would the door open! I dashed on like mad! But, 
Pardner, I never lost grip of my "Winchester. That 
was sure at all times. I flew up the gravel stretch to 
the front door! The foremost dog was within 100 
yards! I dashed against the door! The catch broke 
and I fell in! There stood Minnie wringing her 
hands. She had heard the dogs, and felt I was near 

155 



to the end. She had her arms bandaged, a gun in 
her hand and two revolvers and a knife ready to fight." 

"The dogs burst against the door in their fer- 
ocity. Minnie had secured it." 

"I was coming, Hank, I put canvas on my arms 
so I could stab when they bit me." 

"What now? We knew the men would be an 
hour behind the dogs." 

"Minnie poured a jag of whiskey down me, 
enough to revive an army. She gave me salt to stop 
my bleeding." 

"We knew that the bloodhounds would stop at the 
door. No one could persuade them to go around the 
house. They would hold to the scent till taken else- 
where, so I said to Minnie, and the rest of them at 
the house: 

Til take to the woods to save you/ 

'Not on your: life/ said two of them/ and one is 
here now besides Min — She always meant fight.' " 

" 'Here, take a drink on me again/ said Minnie, 
when she saw I was a little under the weather." 

"I drank a good tall one — about another police- 
man's load — the biggest drink I ever took in my life." 

" 'Come here, Hank/ said Minnie." 

" 'See/ she said, 'and listen sharp, Florence is at 
Adams' Eanch to meet you there. You know where 
to go. Jim is outside watching you. Three others 
will keep near you for a while now. Here is a pack- 
age. It contains red pepper. These people here must 

156 



not notice the dogs at the door. Let them howl there. 
Hank, Fll go with you. Here Dan, put a piece of 
raw meat close to the crack under the door. Dew is 
on the grass. Don't go too fast, and, if I do not use 
this to beat every bloodhound on earth I am not Min- 
nie O'Rell.'" 

"I looked at her in wonder and said: 'You are a 
peach.' " 

" 'Min' laughed and said: 'Can you stand anoth- 
er march, Hank?' " . 

"We started. I went slow, a dog might shy 
around the house any time. We kept silent, and 
glided along. We got a good start; and I saw Min- 
nie spill and sow the pepper on the grass. We went 
along a mile or more. I felt so weary that I lay down 
to rest." 

"I don't know how long I lay there. 'Min' stood 
over me gun in hand when I awoke." 

"Some time along about daylight we saw a half 
dozen dogs on the path far over on the side-hill, 100 
yards from the house we had left. They sneezed so I 
thought their tails would drop off. Every dog went 
into the hospital. We could see them roll on the 
grass, howl and give most unearthly hayings. They 
would knot up into a bunch and explode." 

"The bloodhounds were converted into a blow 
factory. They were wholly helpless." 

"We sat up on a pile of stones and laughed our- 
selves hoarse. As I was afraid of another hemorrhage 
T quit." 

157 ' 



"Harry Tracy when rested went on his way re- 
joicing. It was my narrowest escape." 

"The red pepper and Minnie had done the busi- 
ness. It was a fine scheme." 

"This completely thwarted pursuit. All night 
scores of people kept watch on the house, as the dogs 
remained around there, and did not discover the pep- 
per racket till all thought it too late to pursue. While 
as a fact I was in sight of them at daylight, and worse 
disabled than ever. I had to be careful not to rup- 
ture my 'bellows' again for fear of bleeding, and rested 
a long time in the woods." 

"That was the closest 'shave' I ever had of get- 
ting into a bad box. I could settle the accounts of a 
posse, a lot of farmers or a half dozen bloodhounds 
with my rifle; but a full pack of dogs was awful. Ex- 
cuse me from that uncomfortable scare. I think it 
was the only time I was ever really terrorized. Now, 
let's go ashore." 

With this thrilling tale ended, we landed and 
separated for the night. 



158 



CHAPTEE XYIII. 

HAEEY TEACY ON LAW, OEDEE, LOYE AND 

BULLETS.— HAS MAXIMS AS QUAINT 

AS SANCHO PANZA.— HE THE- 

OEIZES ON MEN AND A 

HEEEAETEE. 



HIS TEIBUTE TO CHEISTIANITY AND 
GOODNESS. 



As the public will remember there was an in- 
terim in the escape and flight of Harry Tracy, that 
caused a sort of suppressed lull. The body of Dave 
Merrill was found on July 14th, 1902 by a Mrs. Mary 
Wagner of Napavine, and the reward for his body 
'dead or alive' of $2,750 was at once claimed. The 
authorities offering the heavy rewards having shown 
evident intention of avoiding or at least quibbling 
ever the matter, a wave of indignation set in, and ac- 
companying it was a receding diffidence as to the at- 
tempt upon Tracy's apprehension. 

Those in hot pursuit of Tracy were cooled off for 
several reasons. One was that he slew all who came, 
whether alleged companions, curiosity seekers, adven- 

159 



turers, seekers for rewards and posses of officers. In- 
deed, he had a vengeful feeling towards officers and 
citizens out for the mercenary purposes of getting him 
for the amount of cold cash there was in it. These 
died first, if he could so arrange it. Again, the re- 
ward for the recovery of the man must, inevitably, 
be much split up before it reached all of the claim- 
ants. Sheriff Cudahee had apparently lost his inter- 
est, and returned to rest up. 

While this fear, hesitancy, disagreements, uncer- 
tainties, both as to the man and the rewards, were all 
in a sort of dilapidated interrogation, Tracy rested, 
and moved from place to place with the utmost se- 
curity and leisure. He went to Seattle, under a most 
unique disguise, to see his friends who were there. 

He was clad in a complete suit of blue clothes — 
all cleanly shaved, and otherwise out of the ordinary. 
He was neither discovered nor suspected. His rapid 
riding and restless energies baffled every invention or 
plan of any and all shrewd man-hunters. 

During this strange interim the writer had an 
interview with the bandit that is worthy of note; and, 
while enjoying the interview the newspapers from 
three cities were brought by an emissary of the fugi- 
tive and read with much interest. The two dispatches 
over, which he seemed to enjoy the greatest amuse- 
ment and interest are as follows: 

"Seattle, Wash., July 15th.— There is absolutely 
nothing being done by the posses searching for Tracy 

160 



to-day. Sheriff Cudahee's order for all deputies in 
the outlying districts to report to his office in Seattle 
this morning is being slowly complied with. Sheriff 
Cudahee himself remains at Kavensdale with a small 
posse." 

"This means that Tracy has completely baffled 
his pursuers. His plan of doubling back and forth 
was at one time thought to be a sure indication of 
insanity, but the present situation proves that there 
was method in his madness. He has gained a rough 
mountainous country, where the chances are nearly 
all in favor of the fugitive. For some days the pur- 
suing bands of men and dogs were at Tracy's heels, 
and his opportunity of escape seemed reduced to a 
minimum. The people of this city expected to hear 
of his capture at any moment, but now many have 
•wholly lost hope." 

"Sheriff Cudahee's orders calling his deputies to 
Seattle gives Tracy at least twenty-four hours' addi- 
tional start, for the hunt will not be resumed until 
after the sleuths have compared notes and decided 
on another plan of campaign. At present it is not 
known whether the fugitive is resting and getting his 
wounds treated, or is pressing on to Stampede Pass 
with a view of getting out of the country altogether. 
Tracy has far the best of the situation and if his 
pursuers ever catch up with him again his next bat- 
tle will very likely be fought far from the place where 
it was thought that he had been cornered." 

161 



And, the second ran thus: 

"Tacoma, Wash., July 16th, 1902. 

"The inquest over the body of Merrill, the dead 
convict, has developed the fact that he had served 
terms in the Montana penitentiary at Deer Lodge, one 
term under the name of McTague and the other un- 
der the name of Carroll." 

"Information is needed from Deer Lodge as to 
four false front teeth Merrill wore, which the Oregon 
penitentiary officials failed to discover when examin- 
ing him. Convicts at Salem have since told the war- 
den there that Merrill had false teeth and this fact 
was telegraphed to the Coroner at Chehallis this morn- 
ing." 

"Seattle, "Wash., July 16th. — The only interest in 
the Tracy hunt to-day lies in the mysterious disap- 
pearance of Sheriff Cudahee, who severed connection 
with his office and the outside world in general yes- 
terday afternoon when he vanished from the vicinity 
of Covington. The only thing new is the following 
special from Eavensdale: 

"John Currington reports that he discovered 
some bloody rags in an old shack one mile west of here 
yesterday. Near by were the ashes of a camp fire. He 
says the rags looked as if they have been used in dress- 
ing wounds. A little later two railroad men saw a 
mysterious man carrying a gun and hiding behind 
trees in the same section. There are no deputies in 
town." 



162 



When the various comments — Editorial and oth- 
erwise, were fully perused and incidentally commented 
upon, naturally the most patent matters were first 
brought to the surface. 

"What do you think of the non-payment of re- 
wards for Merrill?" 

"I don't know of that only to say this, while Dave 
was a dangerous man to handle a gun and might by 
accident kill some one, he was hardly worth the 
amount offered for him on the market. They gener- 
ally overestimate a poor cuss like him." 

"Really do you prefer this experience of dodg- 
ing officers to being in prison?" 

"It makes mighty little difference. A restless fel- 
low like me must be at it in some way. To be in 
prison is a hard punishment for me. I would laugh 
at a shot from a gun, a stab from a knife, or death in 
any shape but three — one by a mob, another by hang- 
ing, and worst of all from sickness in prison." 

"Did you suffer much mentally in prison?" 

"The domineering 'stiffs/ that hold the lash over 
one make it a tough place. I was always planning 
schemes to get out and so pretty busy thinking. I 
knew I'd get away. The only wonder was I stayed so 
long. Some men worry and die there, but the 'dis- 
grace/ as they call it never hurts my feelings. I knew 
I was as good as most preachers, nearly as good as 
lawyers, better than a United States Senator and a 
'white-robed angel' beside a railroad president or a 

163 



Steel-Trust magnate. I read good books — scientific, 
traveling, and other good stuff. I never read light 
trash. I slept well — ate well — studied the 'guys' that 
were doing time, and took regular athletic exercise." 

"Did you study the ways and movements of the 
guards and other officers any?" was asked experimen- 
tally. 

"Just to see how the old< 'tubs' moved. They are 
only machines — poor ones at that. I just watched to 
see what customs and habits each had — where they 
put their weapons — where each was stationed — the 
hours they were on or off duty, only to get onto their 
motions. As far as seeing what kind of 'jing' was to 
them I never bothered myself about that. They were 
like 'coons' — 'all looked alike to me.' The officers and 
guards about such places are 'dummies' — They only 
know a thing or two — never think, read, study or talk 
sense. They know just enough to count up to pay- 
day. I never talk without I want to get at something. 
They all watched me. I just 'sized them up' — never 
watched. I sometimes made a study of how long it 
would take a bullet to go through one of them, but 
cared for no intimate talks or examinations. I some- 
times have held post-mortems over a couple, just to 
sec where the bullets went in and where they came 
out. Not cutting them up, but simply looking. A 
policeman and a guard are much alike — know nothing 
— see nothing — hate everybody but themselves — cat 
and drink like hogs preparing for the scalding — have 

164 



no conscience — like a scheme, but not know one when 
they see it — And have hides and consciences as thick 
as the armor of a first-class battle ship." 

"What of detectives?" 

"Once in a great while a good one. I have had 
them put up a clever job. When I know a good one 
is on my trail I begin to plan to put him on the 'bum'; 
and, I generally do so. I have been left, though, and 
I'll tell you one or two of the cases. Of course, there 
are thousands of 'tin horn' detectives. These are so 
cheap that I hate to shoot them. It takes too long 
to load up afterwards. Besides, their families are sure 
to feel bad about their untimely deaths. A poor ex- 
cuse is generally domestic, and very much missed 
around the house." 

"When pursued closely what are the tactics you 
generally adopt?" was asked. 

"You might just as well ask me what kind of an 
umbrella I would use if it rained," laughed the amused 
desperado. "I first see if I am really pursued; just 
as I would first look out to see if the rain was sure 
coming down. If the fellows are a whole lot, or just 
a couple of good ones, I make that out as I would if 
I needed a good old 'parachute' or a comfortable sort 
of 'Fifth Avenue' affair. See! Everything must be 
considered." 

"Well, suppose they are inexpert and want the 
reward?" 

"Now you hit the bulk of them. I just go as 

165 



soon as I am pretty sure who I've got on my trail, 
and rob a house or scare some old 'rancher' half to 
death. Let him go as though I had tied a faggot to a 
fox's tail. News travels. Officers, like children when 
they see a crab on land, run to the spot to examine 
it. Everybody will expect the fellow who commits a 
crime to take a run until he is out of breath, and then 
collapse. An old farmer, badly scared, will spread 
news like a house-afire. This getting away is what is 
generally done. I never did so. If I robbed a place 
I'd wait to see how the weather was developing. If 
it lightnings a whole lot I shorten my handle for fear 
of a shock. I never like to attract the current too 
much. If it is only a drizzle I get right out into it 
and enjoy it. If it pours and blows I get into a storm 
cellar and stay till it begins to clear up. See!" 

"Did you ever make a mistake by staying around 
the scene of trouble?" 

"Yes, a few times. What I said a while ago about 
a 'smooth' detective applies. One of the 'cute' sort 
did me up brown once. I had completed a job with 
another fellow, and after making our 'divey' — that 
is, dividing the spoils, as politicians do, I told him to 
spread his 'flappers' and make distance. He did and 
got off smooth. It was a fool's luck. I just went back 
and got into the very house we had looted' the night 
before and rented a room. I did it as cool as a cucum- 
ber. What do you think? I had no sooner rented 
the room than a little slim 'guy* of an excuse of a 



166 



looking man rented the room across the hall from 
mine. Now we had robbed that house of diamonds, 
some $400 cash, several gold watches and a lot of 
bulky stuff. My share was all in my 'grip/ I had 
no fear of being caught. After renting my room I 
sort of strolled out to get the size of the 'holler' that 
was going up. After about an hour I went back to 
rest up and congratulate myself. While patting my- 
self on the back for a good smooth man, and going 
into my room, I noticed that all my stuff was gone. 
I caught on at once, and knew if I made a run I would 
be in the arms of the reception committee down stairs. 
What now? I saw the slim fellow go into his room. 
I suspected him from a side sweep he gave to a pair 
of eyes I knew belonged to no ordinary man. I 
stepped to his door, and said: 

Tardner, I had some stuff in a bundle. Do they 
generally 'swipe' a new arrival's goods here?' I said 
it innocent like, and had a patent smile on my face." 

" 'Better see the landlady'; he answered in a 
good elocutionary voice, and began to close his door. 
I knew at once my 'chattels and effects' were inside 
of his 'coop.' I made a sudden lunge — got him by 
the 'guzzle,' rammed his head into a corner till some 
of his hair came off — put my knees on his chest — 
tore off a slice or two from his 'countenance' merely 
for 'identification' — took his night shirt from the bed 
post — tied him fast, and made the little flea as uncom- 
fortable as I could, while he looked mightily sad when 
I said: 

167 



" 'One word, you little dried up piece of 'jerked' 
meat, and Fll blow your little thin soul into a 'new 
heaven/ You thought you were clever. This 'dirt' 
on me will bar you out of any 'earthly Paradise/ 
Acted smart, did you?'" 

"He looked completely knocked out. He had me 
dead on the first deal, but it never pays to lose nerve. 
I had a sleeve full of trumps on him now. I could 
not change clothes with him as the clothes around 
his little skeleton were too small for me. I had to 
arrange to get out of the infernal old mouse trap of a 
house somehow." 

"What do you think I did, Pard?'" 

"I have no idea." 

"Now, guess a little." 

"Well, you killed him." 

"No, I was mad enough. There was my stuff in 
his room — the little weasel — Think! A man go and 
borrow your wardrobe and trinkets when you're out 
for a walk. I just grit my teeth over him. I could 
have danced on his little frame. So infernal impolite 
to go into my room. See! I went up to him and 
put my fist clear into his little 'mug,' and said: 

" Til not kill you now, but I will when I have 
done the meanest trick on you I ever did on a live 
man/ " 

"This was in 'Frisco,' and everybody likes a good 
turn of the tables there." 

"I knew of a small can of carbon oil in the hall 

1G8 



at the head of the stairs. I got it. I put a wet towel 
around the 'cute' one's head to avoid too much hard- 
ship. I didn't want him to "burn out his tines . I wet 
his nice suit of black clothes as wet as I conld make 
them with water. I took all of his handkerchiefs, 
towels, neckties and other loose effects— saturated 
them with the oil, and tied them about his arms, legs 
and body. When all was finished up I set a match 
to the oiled stuff about his legs and away it went. 
Then came the big act in the play. I took him by 
the collar, where there was no fire, and started him 
down the stairs. I lead the ' grand march/ while he 
burned nicely, and hit each step on the way." 

"He got a 'rapid transit' ride, and when I got 
down to the hall he was blazing away fine, and yell- 
ing like a maniac. I set up a 'holler' that would turn 
a 'Brigadier General' green with emotion. The whole 
house was wild. I told the little feller, quick like,' 
not to breathe too much fire in or he'd evaporate. 
The housekeeper, janitor, chambermaids' — everybody 
went at it to see what was the matter. Lace curtains 
took fire — carpets were setting up a loud scent — two 
angular women ignited and went flying down the hall 
screaming. Tardner' a hundred came in off the 
streets to extinguish my bonfire. Several of the po- 
lice who were no doubt waiting for me, in a kindly 
sort of mood, at the entrance came in like runaway 
dray wagons. These fellows move very heavy. It 
took a whole fire department to extinguish that young 
man." 

169 



"What did you do about putting out the fire?" 
was innocently asked. 

"I did the voice work to keep up excitement. I 
had some elocutionary ability in times of great dis- 
tress." 

"Did the fellow burn to death?" 

"No, you can't kill a detective. He was scorched. 
The wet rags and clothes sort of parboiled him. He 
went into a hospital more to keep the fellows from 
'joshing' him than for the disabilities, as Grover Cleve- 
land would put it." 

"What did you do? Did you escape?" 

"I put on a sort of janitor's 'hurry up' look, and 
took all of my stuff and the lean fellow's, and, like 
other excited tenants, just moved out in the confu- 
sion. The joke was good and the papers were full 
of it for a week. Of course I kept moderately and 
innocently shady." 

"How do you account for your wife's constancy 
to you? — Women, you know, do not always stand by a 
fellow in trouble," was asked to divert the bandit. 

"There is a mighty sight of difference in them. 
Any woman, whether she is a Yanderbilt or a wash- 
woman likes a streak of the 'nervy' desperate. They 
want to see the real stuff in a man. None of your 
'wishey-washey' sort of a 'dump.' They'll go back on 
a college professor of the weak sort, thatched at the 
feeble top in the middle, for a 'cow-pnnchor,' who has 
a good heart and never combs his hair. Women are 

170 



better, naturally, than men. We never care much for 
doing a mean thing but hate to be found out, while 
women hate to do a bad turn for the real ugliness 
of the thing itself. If I were to test a man I would 
do it with money. If I were to test a woman I would 
do it with love." 

"Are women you meet and entrust to your plans 
safe as to confidences placed in them?" 

"Now, ril tell you some things you may not know, 
as I do not believe you have been in the hands of 
'limbs of the law/ put through hard places and then 
landed in what they call 'Durance Vile/ I never stu- 
died law except in my own private room — studying 
how to get out. I used people to help my plans. 
Whenever I have trusted women they must be one 
of two classes of women! First, trust the bright ad- 
venturess, with good sense and a good education, who 
has no lover. Second, everywhere, trust the good, 
honest woman with a heart and an education of wide 
experience." 

"What class would you not trust?" 

"Oh, now, I'm no scholar on womanhood; but, it 
is a good subject, and Fll give you my ideas. Never 
trust a woman that has a lover or a confessor of any 
kind. Never trust a disappointed woman, whether 
she has lost on the races, men or property. Never 
trust a woman that has much to do with law, religion, 
politics or business — they all get too Vise/ The 
woman known as an old 'hen/ if that's ever a nice 

171 



word about any woman, must never be let into your 
secrets, or she'll work more harm than a mad bull in 
a china shop. Now, HI give you a 'stunner/ " And 
here Tracy looked wise and earnest. "Trust your 
mother or any woman who has raised boys — Trust 
your wife if she is true and not a faultfinder or thinks 
she knows more than is in the public library. Shun 
the gossip, old and young; and give her the sharp 
edge of a brick as soon as she wants to begin to 
whisper in your ear. Well, Tardner,' they're like a 
peck of apples — you must look them all over to find 
out the bad spots." 

"Did you ever take a liking to a fellow-prisoner?" 
"Not often. The truth is so many of them are 
either blank fools or weaklings. The drones can not 
converse with you. They know nothing, and learn 
nothing. Then the fellow who holds his face in his 
hands to let people see the wet tears seep through on 
the hard floor. He'll only take out all the wire in 
your soft seat, and the stiffening out of your spine. 
•Anyhow, in or out, get the fellow who has hard sense. 
Men and women, all over the country, are much like 
range cattle; only I like the bovine always, fat or 
lean, and may not be fair in comparison. — They, cows 
and men, lick and fondle when everything is lovely 
— trample on each other in a rush for water or pas- 
ture, or in flight from fear — hook and bunt when 
angry — In fact, animals are about alike, whether ihey 
stand on four legs or on two. Prisoners are never 



172 



safe. No man or woman in misfortune is safe, un- 
less you have tried tliem on every point and are sure." 

"Pardner, men and women are like religion — 
you must be a 'good fellow' or you'll get mighty lit- 
tle pleasure out of either. You must 'experience* 
them as the preachers say. Of course I have been 
what they call a great law-breaker. I am having my 
share of trouble. A bad practice whether in a relig- 
ion or in a man does harm. I have no use for a 
'bogus' either in nutmegs, butter, men or religion." 

"So, however high a man may stand, you do not 
trust him alone on that account?" 

"Thieves who violate the so-called law and are 
punishable are, to me like the others — thieves also — 
who are protected by the law — All are untrustworthy 
— dangerous friends, and never reliable." 

"What of the long trusted servant of the people, 
or retired man of business affairs — Are they not re- 
liable advisers P' 

"Look," said the bandit, "and you will see that 
an 'old girl' that goes on 'I used to be,' or an old 
fossil that has 'Seen the day/ are, neither of them 
worth asking even a very modest question. When I 
see them come I side-track. I like to burglarize their 
houses, and borrow their goods, as they let loose so 
hard." 

"Did you ever believe you were right in your 



cause 



?» 



r 'Pardner," and here the desperado looked a lit- 
173 



tie angered, "a successful criminal, so-called, must, 
like a successful man in any enterprise do Ids job well 
and be proud of his job." 

"I never see or hear you tell your friends of your 
fears or troubles- — Do you not trust them?" 

"A common trouble seldom 'bind people closer/ " 

"If one feller has lost a horse and the other his 
wife they may get together and have a sort of con- 
ference on fellow-feeling; and both praise the good 
qualities of each, or show up their spavins, splints and 
sores; but, if both lost a horse or wife there is nar- 
row comfort for either if the cases are very much 
alike. Of course death and burglars are very differ- 
ent enemies. See!!" ' 

"Are not unfortunate people good confederates, 
generally?" 

"Misfortune is always a good parent to crime. It 
makes a fine 'starter' to study how to 'do' some one. 
As confederates, they will do to use, not to trust." 

"Do you ever have regrets?" 

"Any one has a spell at the 'dumps.' That is the 
only reason I take a dislike to religious people. They 
take all the fight out of you. They extract the 'gum 
elastic' out of you as quick as a good sweat does the 
stretch out of a cheap suspender." 

"Pardner, you can't kick a man into glory with 
sole leather any more'n you can jerk him in with a 
hangman's hemp rope. I have a notion of heaven. 
If it is as I would order it I am sure all my friends 

174 



would like to go. I would not be comfortable there 
if preachers are right about it. It is a good deal more 
liberal place, to my notion, than the pious fellows 
think. If not, then, the other place is better, sum- 
mer and winter. Some good fellows have a heaven 
made up of 'reserved seats/ That will do for ones 
who are too good to live and not quite good enough 
to die. I want a broad heaven — big every way. But, 
what's the use of a murderer and bandit talking of 
heaven." 

"Keally, Tracy, do you hate religion and relig- 
ious people?" 

"Me? Never! Tardner.' A man that preaches 
the gospel is to me a wonderful man, and, in my flight 
I have tried to be in some religious gathering on Sun- 
day. I was never disturbed. Sheriffs do not go 
there. No, I believe in it a great deal more than these 
'top-heavy' felltfws who preach 'advanced ideas' and 
such rot. I know nothing better than the Sermons 
and prayers of Christ. Why, I have just read them 
this week." 

"Well, kn owing as you do the difference between 
right and wrong, are you not fearful of a hereafter?" 

"Any man who does not fear men, guns, dogs and 
bullets is not afraid of meeting that One who stood 
them all off at Calvary. 'Pardner,' I do not believe 
everything. If both places are as the 'good' folks say 
I'd find better company in the tropical atmosphere. 
I'd have Eobert Tngersoll, Chauncy Depew, Dave Hill, 

175 



Jay Gould, J. Pierpont Morgan and 'Boss' Tweed with 
me at lunch. If kindness and goodness were relig- 
ion even these 'big guns' would be shut out, 'wet to 
the skin/ on the veranda. Give me a religion of any- 
kind in preference to law. Religion beats human law. 
It gives you a show for your 'white alley/ but law is 
all fraud." 

"Do you ever seriously think of a hereafter?" 

"Yes, when not busy; but I try to be busy. Rus- 
sel Sage, Rockefeller and Lyman Gage are like me in 
that respect. If they'd stop to think about an hour 
they'd commit suicide." 

"Thinking will do for people who haven't sense 
enough to think. Reflecting is better," he mused. 

"Did you ever get any of your ideas out of dime 
novels?" 

"Never. I do not know what a novel is. Of 
course I know in a way, but read them never! I got 
the best things out of Fox's Book of Martyrs, The 
Inquisition, Uncle Tom's Cabin, and a set of books 
on King David, Sampson and other Bible characters. 
My mother would borrow them of the village minister 
and others. She read to us a great deal. I do not 
want a lot of 'rot.' Had I believed in dime novel 
heroes, as far as I know of their 'fool' schemes, I could 
not have shot a hitching-post. Buffalo Bill, the big- 
gest fraud that ever trod the plains, is a good dime 
novel character, but there are no real ones but him. 
No, you must get real characters. The Bible gives 

176 



the truth, and, it gives the very best lessons on how, 
who and when to kill." 

"But, you do not follow that as a guide do you?" 

"I am not pretending anything. I am a hunted 
man seeking freedom at any price. I study but one 
God — That the God of power. I want no lessons of 
truths or 'cradle songs/ for mine is the war of man 
alone against the world. Hymns and home lullabies 
take the 'starch' out of one so. I hate laws, because the 
semblance, perhaps, has bound me hand and foot; but 
I like freedom, and nothing in nature, law or relig- 
ion tells me I ought not to have it even at the price 
of blood. I have left a trail of death behind me, but 
I do not believe I am much in the wrong. The world 
must have saints, gods, demons. Which am I!" 

As he said this he adjusted his trappings and 
moved away as usual. His lithe figure was, as it re- 
ceded from view sublime in every movement and 
lineament. The writer marveled at his acumen and 
quaint, inherent knowledge. 

He still, and yet more than ever, stood out the 
most marvelous man of his kind. 



177 



CHAPTEE XIX. 

TRACY AND THE WRITES AEE FIEED ON BY 
RECKLESS POSSE. — THE BANDIT'S 
ALERTNESS SAVE BOTH FEOM 
HAEM.— A HOT BATTLE FOL- 
LOWS IN WHICH TEACY 
DISABLES THE EN- 
TIRE POSSE. 



Near the Chelan Rapids on the Columbia Eiver 
is one of the most picturesque spots of the great West- 
ern Ranges of mountains. On a warm clear after- 
noon about four o'clock, near the first of August A. 
D. 1902, the writer and Harry Tracy, by a pre-ar- 
ranged plan, were seated on a log just at the edge of 
the declivity that falls with considerable steepness 
down to the tumbing waters of the River. The clear 
stream seemed to be in mimic battle with the rocks 
that jutted from side and bottom of the bed of the 
rapidly rushing stream. The sound was a continu- 
ed rhapsody of nature's most soothing and enchant- 
ing music, that the listener might adapt to any mood, 
rhythm or air. 

178 



The weather was perfect: and the air balmy with 
the borrowed fragrance of flowers and trees. 

A sort of running conversation marked the occa- 
sion. Tracy was in fine humor, and related escapades 
and narrow chances with such ease as would make any 
listener feel that he was something of a boaster. How- 
ever, he said nothing that any one could deny who 
knew him and his exploits, for he had performed 
worse feats than he ever assumed to relate. 

He kept' up his usual survey of surroundings, and 
was so located at this time that he could command an 
easy view of all surroundings. Finally he said: 

"I believe I am watched pretty close to-day. I 
am sure some of the old 'push' is close on my trail. 
I can almost feel my old Winchester twisting around 
in my clutches." 

He was asked why he so felt. He cocked his 
large broad-rimmed gray hat on one side and said: 

"Do you see those birds soaring around a cer- 
tain spot?" 

"Yes, how far are they away?" 

"Not far. That's what I hate about it. They 
are soaring over a spot about two miles away. There 
is no ford here, on the river, and that would prevent 
any one getting over very easy, but they could shoot 
across." 

"But, what do you mean?" 

"This. Those infernal birds know enough to fol- 
low a man with a gun, to catch food if killed — get the 

179 



entrails, or get scraps after a camping party. Those 
carnivorous 'flyers' are either watching something not 
quite dead and dying, or they are waiting for a man 
or men to move on so they can get down and begin 
to eat. See?" 

"Why don't they soar over us?" 

"Plain enough. The rapids make a noise. They 
hate noises, as they can not hear each other talk so 
well. They have bird language. They have another 
reason for not soaring over me. I shot one last week. 
The others told their friends to look out for me. 
Also, I use a great deal of carbolic salve on the scratch- 
es I have. The scent gets a long way, and that drives 
them off. Last week I had no salve. My small sores 
festered. They came after me thick, thinking I was 
going to pass in my checks. The Indians know their 
peculiarities, and I have a few Indian pursuers after 
me. They corrtd follow me easy with those tell-tale 
birds. I had to kill one last week, flying over me, to 
scare them off." 

Just then Tracy gave a bound like a panther. 

In a second the writer was flat on the ground 
from an open hand blow on the chest, delivered by 
the bandit with such force, suddenness and dexterity 
as to send him flat on his face. Tracy also fell to the 
ground. It was so unexpected of him that an instant 
of awful dread seized me. 

Simultaniously with this startling action of his 
five or six reports of rifles were heard in close proximi- 

180 



ty across the river, and the solid rock right where the 
background of our bodies were an instant before, was 
crumbled and shattered by the savage leaden missiles. 
I lay prone on my face, not daring to move a muscle 
for Tracy put his big brawny hand flat on my head 
so hard that my countenance was thrust into the dirt, 
as he said: 

"Still, Pardner! Don't move on your life. Are 
you hurt?" 

"Xo, not at all," I answered, though my chest 
felt as though it was caved in with the terrible slap he 
had delivered. A kick from an experienced and ath- 
letic donkey could not have hurt much worse. 

Just then the report of Tracy's terrible rifle 
belched out over the hills. I trembled with fear. I 
knew it meant a death havoc among men. The dread- 
ful bandit was doing dire execution surely, or he 
would not pour forth his death messa'ges so fearfully 
rapid. It was impossible to count the rapid shots, so 
furious did they peal forth, accompanied by exclama- 
tions from the injured. 

"I'll teach you to shoot innocent people — you in- 
fernal curs," said Tracy, amid some startling oaths 
and expressions as he fired. 

"Look up, Tarcl/ and see how I gave them a 
taste of their own medicine." 

He helped me to my feet, and pointed with glee 
across the stream. I straightened up, and, sure en- 
ough, three men lay motionless on a clear plat o'f 

181 



ground across the river, while others were crawling, 
evidently much damaged, to get under cover. The 
desperado had completely annihilated a whole posse in 
less than a minute and a half. His ruse so suddenly 
executed had saved our lives, and, at the same time 
brought the officers out of hiding. 

"See! I wounded five, and killed three. What 
fools. They hid behind those rocks, got a fair aim 
at us and missed. All that saved us was an instinct 
I have. Look how they peppered the face of that 
rock. I felt something was going to happen. As 
soon as a rifle is pointed at me I get some sort of 
electric shock. I gave you a thump and fell myself; 
and, we were just out of line by about ten inches. See 
where the balls hit, and look where we sat. Any one 
of those bullets would have hit one of us, if we had 
remained long enough. The curs. Four of them are 
Indians, too. They are so low on the Keservation they 
will sell themselves for a pint of raw-hide whiskey. 
I made that bunch sick, eh, Tard?' " and the bandit 
coolly grinned with huge glee. He was in his perfect 
elements. The enemy had, again, been met, outwit- 
ted and outclassed. 

I really felt charmed with his acuteness, audacity 
and wonderful execution. He certainly bore himself 
in every emergency as staunchly and as capable as a 
well trained military leader. 

"You have saved my life, Captain, what can I do 
for you?" 

182 



"Oh, saving life is nothing. That is a duty. Look 
yonder. I see those devils are all dismantled. Not 
one to carry the wounded off the field of battle. Yes, 
I did mighty good work there. They must have 
thought we were both shot, and came out in the clear 
to get a better look. I waited till I knew they had 
come down towards the bank of the stream far 
enough so I could wing all of them before they could 
get under cover. I cleaned them all out. From the 
first not one shot at me as I stood out in the clear. 
Good boy, old 'Winchey/ " he said, patting his deadly 
Winchester rifle. 

"You are a wonder, Captain. If I can ever do 
you a favor I will." 

"You; why being with a gritty feller like you is 
enough. There are mighty few 'game' men. No 
favor to help a friend; but, say, Tardner/ " and here 
his voice softened almost to a whisper, and he looked 
very earnest, "you'll not forget that I want to go back 
to where little Eachie is if I pass off around here? Of 
course, ask Florence about it, you know. I told her 
what I wanted. She says all right, but says she wants 
to take to the earth at the same spot. Strange how 
good women are and how bad we men are, Tardner/ 
Of course you will not forget the little Prayer book, 
too. Bury that with me if you can, unless Florence 
wants it. Now this sounds like asking a favor because 
I saved you from taking in about a pound of lead at 
the wrong opening. Tard,' a man that will expect a 

183 



favor every time he grants one is a poor excuse of a 
man. I am a murderer and a thief, so the law says; 
but, when I go into a job of doing a clever thing I 
want it done as clean and cool as I put those fellows 
yonder out of their trouble." 

He looked every inch the man of will and pur- 
pose as he spoke. 

"I'll not forget what you have before requested 
of me. I will do both if within my power." 

"You are my kind of a feller. You promise like 
a man that will keep it. If I was on earth again we'd 
go to the same church and Sunday school. Wouldn't 
the old preacher open his f yop' if he saw me come in 
and take the front 'pew/ He'd say 'firstly,' in his text 
— take one look at us and then c cut it out,' eh, Tard?' " 
He laughed till it reverberated above the rushing 
sound of the river. 

One could not help but laugh at his quaint humor. 
Taking a careful survey once more of the surround- 
ings, he said: 

"Let's get away from here. We'll find Jim and 
the girls. This spot is not safe just now. If they'd 
been near this last narrow escape would never have 
happened." 

Then looking across the river he said: 

"Poor devils. You ought to know better than to 
play with guns. Children get hurt so easy." 

We left and soon found rest if not safety. I felt 
I owed my life to the most dangerous man in Amer- 
ica. 

184 



CHAPTER XX. 

HOW THE GOVERNOR OF COLORADO PARD- 
ONED THE WRONG MAN.— ONE OF 
HARRY TRACY'S ADROIT, AU- 
DACIOUS AND DEFT 
TRICKS. 



Harry Tracy and the writer conversed some at 
the cottage heretofore alluded to. Tracy was versa- 
tile. The host and hostess at the mysterious cottage 
where Tracy and his friends assembled at pleasure, 
knew no hounds to the generous treatment of the 
writer. Among many incidents recounted is the fol- 
lowing: 

"You have seen the Indians I have about me 
when the atmosphere looks bad?" said Tracy one day 
when there was considerable leisure and a lull in the 
desperate pursuit. 

"Yes," was the reply. 

"Well, of course you know Jim." 

"Certainly." 

"Did you ever see the droll fellow, that seldom 
speaks, before you saw him with me?" 

"I believe not; why?" 

185 



"He has a history. I shall have to relate to you. 
It is a part of my own. He has saved my life several 
times. He thinks he owes his liberty to me." 
"How did you save him?" 

"He had been sent to Canon City, Colorado, for 20 
years on a charge of manslaughter. I know very little 
of the facts. That was not what I was goin to tell 
about. It was how I got him out on pasture again. 
I had several good people of Denver and elsewhere, 
who knew him, shape up a cause for pardon. By this 
time Dan — that's his name — had been in four years. 
After a long pull at it I began to think nothing was 
comiug of it. I had been to see one of my mainstays 
in it, a good clergyman, and he told me it was useless 
as Dan was beyond earthly retribution. I didn't think 
so. I said: 

"I never think a 'feller's' done till he's dead." 
"I'll go see Davis H. Waite, the Governor, my- 
self." 

"'What good will that do?' he asked." 
"I may get a pardon by a little push." 
"'Try it — there is no harm done anyhow,' he 
said." 

"I went into the Governor's office. You may 
know he was old and most awful short sighted, but 
he was as 'cute' as you make them. But he was al- 
ways fighting some one. That is why he got the nick- 
name of 'Blood to the Bridles.' Old Dave was a great 
fellow to make war with pen and ink. He wore out 

186 



more strong men with the ink than any ten men of 
his day." 

"When I sat down he gave me a stiff glance over 
his old brass windows, but said nothing. He was in 
a raving hot temper. In an adjoining room were a 
whole lot of fellows on some City Hall row. The old 
skeleton was sure to be sick if he couldn't fight. The 
old man kept hustling about, sending first one fellow 
and then another about until his private office was 
left with no one to keep me company." 

"I always believe in being busy, so I went to his 
desk. There, sure enough, were three or four pard- 
ons. All filled out but one. This one was signed by 
the Governor, but the f conY name was not in. I 
rolled it up quick and left the office. He is still won- 
dering, I suppose, what I wanted there." 

"Now for quick and right smart work." 

"Who could imitate old Dave Waiters hand so the 
instrument would all look alike?" 

"I found a lawyer who could. He is dead now 
— no connection between his death and my story, 
though — He died a natural death. All lawyers do not 
die natural deaths, you know." 

I agreed in order to avoid argument, and he went 
on: 

"This fellow could imitate the good old Govern- 
or, even to the flourish of his 'wrist and elbow/ He 
could put on the old one's 'squint 5 and 'quirk 5 to his 

187 



jaw. I saw he was a clever fellow, and gave him just 
twenty 'plunks' for a sample of his handwriting." 

"I have seen a lot of lawyers — most of them on 
the outside, but some good ones, inside the 'corrall, 
but this fellow was an 'all round' athlete with his pen. 
He could sign a sheriff's name to a death warrant and 
never lose a stroke. I am sure he never 'served time' 
for he was too slippery — the grip of the law would 
snap off." 

"Now, who should I get to take the pardon to 
Canon City and meet the troubled expression on the 
face of the Warden? I do not like Wardens, so took 
more real delight in giving him a 'hard fall' than any 
one else in the affair." 

"I had no time to sit and guess over it, for old 
man Waite was liable to remember his friends or ene- 
mies in the dead of night. I knew a good clergyman. 
You knew him, 'Pardner,' very well in Denver. He 
had been helping me all along in the case. He was 
a clever and fine man. Why, he was so good he would 
rather see friends and foes all on the outside of the 
'bare walls.' " 

"I sized him up as an 'easy mark.' " 

"He was my meat." 

"I went straight at him. Now, I'm not going io 
tell his name for fear he'd remember me in liis pray- 
ers. As soon as I saw him he said: 

"'Well what success?'" 



188 



"I handed him the 'bogus' pardon with a face as 
sober as though I was at confession." 

"'Good— Now what?'" 

"Reverend, you and I must go and get him. You 
have transportation." 

"'When?'" 

"Eight off." 

" 'When can we get a train?' " 

"We found plenty of trains." 

"One just suited me, as it went in an hour." 

"We took it. I kept 'shady.' Everything went 
all right, and, Dan O'Brady was out and free." 

"He wanted to come to Denver with us. I stuck 
to the 'parson' so, if anything came of it I'd go right 
to the front and swear the old Governor gave it to me 
while he was fighting his appointees, and, was in high 
'dudgeons' when he made it out and put his 'mighty 
hand' to it." 

"I felt a tinge of sadness over the child-like in- 
nocence of the Reverend. I had a notion to tell him 
that it was no use trying to be good in a 'Wicked 
Country' like ours; but I left him to reach that con- 
clusion when he could have time to religiously sit dowri 
and read up a special text for the occasion." 

"Old Dan was a 'lubber,' and, no quiet argument 
could get the old groundhog to see the edge of the 
buzz-saw. He still clung to the idea that it was a 
straight pardon, and would go to Denver with us. I 
was most sorry I had allowed the fool to get out; but 

189 



the trick was so clever that I rubbed my hands with 
glee over a pine board with a full set of splinters. It 
was too good a thing to allow it to spoil before using." 

"Finally, when we got back to Denver and I fully 
expected to see a 'squad' of officers there to welcome 
Dan back, and the Keverend and I to the jail, I con- 
cluded to tell the whole story to the Reverend, so 
he could, in a quiet and pious way break the news 
through old Dan's thick skull. I had argued it with 
him whenever I had breath enough left all along from 
Canon City to Denver— showing him the pardon was 
a stretch of my imagination, and the lawyer's easy 
handwriting. (I never told a soul the lawyer's name)." 

"I got discolored in the face trying to enlighten 
him." 

"I took Dan out on the platform, of the train to 
get more fresh air on his anatomy to see if the facts 
could not be rubbed into his pores, like St. Jacob's 
Oil. I wanted to disinfect him anyhow and hoped he 
would fall off by accident. He could not see; and, 
finally said with great innocence: 

" 'Hank, a pardon is a pardon, isn't it?'" 

" 'Yes/ I said, 'between my upper and lower 
grinders.' " 

" 'Well, then, I'm free.' " 

"I had a notion then to throw him from the plat- 
form of the train, as far out on the prairies as I could, 
but grit down my wrath and sat down while I wiped 

190 



off the sweat of mental toil, that broke out over me 
in the effort of giving it to the big 'warp.' " 

"When we got comfortably out of the depot at 
Denver, we all went to the Oxford Hotel — right at 
the depot. There we had a good dinner of duck and 
trout and some nice old wine. This I arranged to get 
the Parson into a nice frame of mind. You know all 
preachers like good stuff, for what they call the 'In- 
ner man/ I got the 'inner' and 'outer' man in good 
working order. The fish began to dive around, the 
duck got conversational, and the wine relieved the 
friction." 

'Til tell you, 'Pard,' I began to have hopes of 
Old Dan. He began to show signs of higher form 
of animal life. I really began to feel that there was 
some hopes of reviving or 'quickening' his belated 
senses. When the fourth quart of wine had been 
drained there were unmistakable evidences of intelli- 
gence in Dan. 1 put on a few more extras and I got 
to the point where I had courage to get an ax at Dan. 
I was sure, if he could not see through the affair on 
two whole quarts of Old Madeira, ten whiskies, three 
ducks, nine beers, a whole school of mountain trout 
and other things 'too numerous to mention,' as the 
country sale bills read, I'd dissect his old 'mug,' with 
the dull side of the carving knife, with the most easy 
grace. So I said: 

" 'Eeverend, I have been keeping a thing or two 
from you in this pardon of Dan's.' " 

191 



"'What is that?' he inquired pitiably innocent, 
but comfortable in the genial warmth of the Old Ma- 
deira." 

"I replied with a windy sigh that would have 
helped a Chinese laundryman hugely: 

" 'Well it is a fraud/ " 

" 'What, the pardon!' And here the Parson swelled 
out all over as though the duck and trout were in 
trouble." 

"I then told him the whole scheme. He seemed 
all gone, and I saw a collapse of my Old Madeira. I 
had always thought Old Madeira had better 'staying 
qualities." 

"Will you believe it? The Parson's jaws became 
set — his eyes stood still and as big and round as two 
soup plates; and his ears seemed to stick up — He 
looked in all his shape like a high-bred poisoned pug. 
I looked at Dan. There I got a 'pinch of comfort.' 
His ears fell; his jaw dropped like a one-hinged trap 
door — his eyes took on a glance of 'any kind of help.' 
Fearing he would soon be out of range; I quietly 
slipped a package containing a ticket to Salt Lake 
City, a letter of instructions and a little change into 
his big 'paw.' I felt his grip shut on it, and I knew 
Dan was fast resuming his dates where he left off 
some years before. Intelligence had dawned in him. 
Whether it was the fish or something else I don't know. 
If it was the fish I'd have fed him with a whale to 
get that spark of sense." 

192 



"I looked with a liand me down/ kind sort of 
smile at the 'last stages' of the parson's troubles, and 
I saw I must do something or hold a consultation. He 
would soon burst at that tension, and I said in a nice 
kindly tone: 

" 'Keverend, suppose we have another bottle. That 
last was very good.' " 

"'Man,' he said, 'Do you know this will ruin 
me?'" 

" 'How?' I asked in my very best 'after dinner' 
voice." 

" 'Exposure will come soon — may be in an hour. 
It is sure to be discovered.' " 

'"Well, what then?' I asked mildly." 

" 'My ruin. We must take Dan back. We must 
go at once, and explain it as a mistake. Come — D — ; 
Where is he? Dan! Where are you?'" 

"There was no Dan. He had taken a 'tumble' 
to himself and was gone. I began to have some re- 
gard for Dan then." 

" 'What now?' asked the Parson in an awful 
voice." 

" 'Simply show that in the excitement the Gover- 
nor granted a pardon to the wrong man.' " 

"'Nobody will believe it.'" 

"'Waite is a Populist.'" 

" 'Yes, and knows I was the 'consulting engin- 
eer.' ' The Parson began to have real respect for 
me." 



193 



" 'He was roasting a Kepublican Fire and Police 
Board when he made the 'bull/" 

"'Possibly, if you tell the truth now/ he replied 
in an ugly tone/' 

"'Every Eepublican will insist that the old man 
is getting 'nutty/ and believe it/" 

" 'It looks so/ replied he with a half resigned 
look." 

" 'Sure enough, after Dan was gone two days the 
discovery was made. The Pardon Board knew the 
case had been up before them, and the same refused. 
Old man Waite was not to be outdone, and made the 
statement blandly, not knowing just how it came 
about: 

"It was another Eepublican scheme to compro- 
mise me. They let loose one of their friends, think- 
ing it will make another vote. I'll see that he is back 
in, and some of his Eepublican friends with him." 
"The good Parson played innocent, and when ques- 
tioned told the truth, while I rested up for a few weeks 
until old Governor Waite was defeated for Governor, 
and then things looked safer." 

"As for Dan he's stuck to me ever since. In or 
out up or down he never forgets the Old Madeira 
Wine." 



194 



CHAPTER XXI. 

THE LAST BATTLE. 



HARRY TRACY AGAINST THE WORLD.— UN- 
EQUAL.— DEEDS OF DESPERATION 
AND FORTITUDE. 



Tracy was seated on the edge of a rock, on one 
of those strange spurs of the beautiful and pictur- 
esque Cascade Range of mountains on Sunday morn- 
ing, of the 3rd of August, 1902. This spur is called 
Wenatchee Mountain — terminating in the knob called 
Mount Stuart; and, it extends somewhat, or apparent- 
ly, out over and into the Yakima Indian Reservation. 
He looks entire a part of the rugged surroundings. 
The sequel will show the dexterity and rapidity of his 
later movements. 

I had just said: 

"Good morning, Colonel/ 5 when he looked long 
and steadily down on the stretch of wild and rugged 
range towards the east. The rising sun lent an en- 
chantment to this wild but fascinating scene that was 
most strange and subduing. He withdrew his gaze 
and said absently: 

195 



"Good morning, friend." 

He looked again far out. I thought he was ad- 
miring the vast panorama stretching out tpwards the 
sun, or listening to the thrilling music of the Rapids 
of the fantastic Columbia River, quite near. 

But, then again, pensively withdrawing his gaze 
in a half absent way he said: 

"You see, we have been together so long I dis- 
cover we are beginning, as the military fellows say, 
brevetting each other. I was 'Captain' last week and 
you were 'Pardner.' Nothing like advancing." 

We both laughed, and passed several jokes. But 
there was a 'long distance' look in his eyes that boded 
something. 

Again he looked and with an uneasy nervous 
movement of his hands as he grasped his terrible 
Winchester more firmly; but, again he resumed notice 
of me, and presently said: 

"I am sorry I shot those two newspaper fellows 
Anderson and Seefrit at Bothcll. They ought to have 
known better. I was in some hurry about my killing 
there. War is conducted by me with guns not quills." 

He smiled, and, after rising to his feet, gun in 
hand, for a long survey of the surrounding country, 
he drew his whistle and blew several unusual blasts; 
and, in less time than it takes to write it, blasts, simi- 
lar in tone, and duration resounded from three dis- 
tinct quarters. 

Another instant and two startled forms appeared 

196 



over the tallest eminence at our right. The forms 
were dressed in the garb of Indians of the Reserva- 
tion, but looked lighter in complexion, as far as one 
could see at 500 yards. 

Trac} r pointed far out over the plains. Both men 
looked long and steadily. One used a field glass of 
some sort. 

Another instant and both blew sharp blasts — 
turned like a flash and disappeared. 

Tracy seldom swore, but now a string of oaths 
poured from him with a volubility simply alarming. 

He sprang from the ledge to a level table rock, 
and was about to turn to go from me, when suddenly 
wheeling about he said: 

"No one can see like Tracy. What is the use of 
having eyes unless we use them. Those fellows yon- 
der are a posse. That is, they, the fools, hunt me — 
out in the opening. One could kill a thousand of 
them. But my fellows ought to have been posted." 

This was said rapidly, but coolly. 

"Are you going?" I inquired. 

"Very necessary." He smiled and pointed out 
where several miles over the undulating sand, rock and 
hill country, and near the curve in the Columbia, sev- 
eral dots could be seen, which to his practiced eye, 
were men on horses. I used a glass, and, at once said: 

"Yes, they are officers, as one might suppose." . 

"Do you know how I know them?" 

"No," I said. 

197 



"Look — use your glass — I need none." 

"See the big one on the black horse?" 

"Yes." 

"They all turn to talk to him— See?" 

"Yes." 

"He's the sheriff." 

"Yes." 

"See the horse — big — not used by rangers, cattle 
men, or anybody but a fool sheriff who wants to get 
hurt— See!" 

"Yes," I again said with admiration. 

"Look at the slim little 'cuss' on the pony." 

"Yes." 

"He's the little devil, Goldfinch, I did not kill 
last week." 

"Can you recognize him from here?" 

"Perfectly — Would know him a mile farther 
away. I ought to have finished him. Dead men are 
safe. Only doctors profit by keeping men alive." 

Again he said: 

"See the big fellow's bridle and saddle; the two 
other men with 'store clothes,' and machine made leg- 
gins. Bridles have 'gewgaws' on them — ornaments — 
See! No real fellows wear such stuff on themselves 
or horses. These are 'tin' officers — Good mark — easy 
to topple over — Have eyes, but see nothing — Legs, but 
can't carry them far — I always knew I could distance 
them and rest half the time." 

He mused a moment — loosened his revolvers and 

198 



knives in his belt — examined his rifle with great care 
and inquired: 

"What day is this?" 

"Sunday," was answered. 

"Wish I had little Sunflower's Prayer book to- 
day." 

"Til give you one," was the reply. I handed him 
a new book I had sent for on purpose for him, since 
our first mountain talks. 

"That's clever, Tardner' — now friend — Give me 
your 'fist/ Good-bye — I always liked you — Remem- 
ber Harry Tracy and your promise about little Eachie 
and I." 

We shook hands, and, really it was a sad parting. 
It was our last interview. 

With bounds, more like the elastic movements 
of a panther, than a man, he dashed along the rocky 
summit, and, finally, disappeared. 

Strange destiny! The air seemed to grow still all 
around. The man of awful deeds had grown fascinat- 
ing to the writer. In a few moments I heard horses' 
hoofs, and, looking down to a mountain road near be- 
held two Indian lads dash along at break-neck-speed. 
Two blasts were blown from whistles in their hands, 
and answered far down the Columbia River — not far 
from where we had seen the sheriff's posse. 

I drew my field glass and leveled it upon the cen- 
taur-like riders. I had seen both before, and knew 
them well. Wonderful! The man was electric in his 



199 



ways and being! These devoted ones clung to him in 
whatever form his romantic career shaped itself. 

The repeated blast of whistles during that day 
and night, occasionally the crack of a rifle, was all 
that occurred to hint of what might be transpiring. 
The writer spent the day in sad reserve — reflecting 
upon the cruelty of fate. 

It was the Sabbath day, and, there being no oc- 
cupation, one could not help but reflect seriously — 
though the world has neither Christian nor philos- 
opher now — that in some way, even this desperado 
might triumph — In the right. 

In a sealed package received a week before of 
Harry Tracy, the writer believed he had the secret of 
his Skagway wealth and many other things not to be 
utilized until after his death or by his written con- 
sent. He believed his secrets and confidences would 
not be betrayed. They never were. 

The history of August 3rd, 4th, 5th, and the morn- 
ing of the 6th, and briefly related as follows by a ver- 
satile observer who may be correct, discloses an inter- 
esting and startling detail, known solely by the author 
of these pages: 

"The men seen by Tracy scouting the country 
were, no doubt, the posse of Sheriff Gardner. Tracy 
went, after baffling pursuit, to the barn of a farmer 
by the name of L. B. Eddy, near the small town of 
Fellowes. A youth by the name of Goldfinch, whom 
Tracy had compelled to act as his guide for several 

200 



days kept informed of the movements of the victim, 
and sent word to the county seat, Davenport, for of- 
ficers. Deputy Sheriff Gardner arrived on the scene 
with a posse." 

"The ranch of L. B. Eddy is on Lake Creek, 
about three miles south of Eellowes. Eddy was busy 
about his farm houses, when, early in the morning of 
August 5th a man, fully armed, wet and covered with 
dirt, bruises and grime, and with a gun in his hands 
stepped up to him, as though he had arisen from the 
earth as an apparition." 

"Stranger, I am Harry Tracy, the escaped con- 
vict, outlaw and much wanted desperado." 

"What can I do for you?" Eddy answered, pale 
with fright. 

"Protect me from pursuit," promptly replied 
Tracy. 

"And get into it myself,", replied Eddy cynically. 

"No, you need not fear." 

"But you would not care if I got into trouble." 

"Look here," replied Tracy savagely, "you must 
protect me. If you do not Fll kill you and your fam- 
ily. Any word of information from you will bring 
Harry Tracy and his friends' vengence upon you at 
once." 

Just then two stalwart Indians appeared in sight 
from the neighboring barn, and one said — who, no 
doubt, was Jim Tracy: 

"Protect this man or suffer the consequences." 

201 



"I'll do all I can, and will not betray you; for 
your wrongs and guilt are interesting to me; but I can 
not afford to get into trouble with the law. Come 
to the house." 

In a short time Tracy was clad as a farm hand, 
and had a real domestic appearance. He worked 
about the place all morning, and officers came and 
went with impunity, little suspecting that the man 
they wanted was so near. 

Jim and others endeavored to decoy the officers 
and citizens, and would have succeeded to perfection 
had not the Goldfinch boy, who was the only one who 
knew Tracy discovered him. 

While farmer Eddy was mowing in a field near 
his barn, the officers, guided by the boy, came near. 
Eddy feigned indifference, but, at a critical moment, 
Tracy, who was busy in and about the barn emerged 
from the barn. 

"Is that Harry Tracy?" asked one of the posse 
of Sheriff Gardner. 

Farmer Eddy was obdurate, and, when so dis- 
covered the interrogation became imperative: 

"Say, sir, is that Tracy?" 

Eddy in some fear of consequences replied: 

"It surely is." 

"You must help us capture him, Eddy," insisted 
one of the deputies of Sheriff Gardner. "Lauder, you 
and Smith go with Eddy to the barn — conceal your 
guns as much as possible. You other fellows will £0 

202 



round with me under cover of the hill there so we 
can cut off any possible break for liberty. Now, Eddy, 
no schemes." 

"I don't want to shield him/' replied Eddy. 

The surrounders separated, Lander and Smith ac- 
companying Eddy in the direction of the barn, while 
the other two men swung around to cut off any break 
for liberty in another direction. The two man-hunt- 
ers stepped behind the barn on a slight eminence, 
from which they could watch everything that went 
on and the farmer continued up to the door. Tracy 
came from the barn again and began helping his host 
in unhitching the horses. He carried no rifle, al- 
though he had his revolvers in place. The fugitive 
saw the men carrying rifles and turning sharply to 
Farmer Eddy said: "Who are those men?" 

"I don't see any men," said Eddy. 

Tracy pointed out the two men on the hill wait- 
ing to be sure of their man before they began shoot- 
ing. Eddy informed his companion who the men 
were and the outlaw made a leap for the barn door. 
The officers, stepping a little closer, commanded: 

"Hold up your hands." 

The outlaw jumped behind Eddy and placed first 
the man and then the horse between himself and the 
officers. He commanded the farmer to lead his horse 
to the barn, where, remaining under cover, he moved 
toward shelter. When near the stable he broke and 



203 



dashed inside. He quickly reappeared, rifle in hand, 
and started on a dead run down the valley. 

Turning on the two men the desperado fired two 
shots, but neither one found its billet in his pursuers. 

Without waiting to fire again, Tracy turned and 
ran south down the valley, intent on reaching the 
brush. His pursuers were right behind him, firing 
as they ran and gaining every step. The fugitive 
saw the race was hopeless; he could not reach the 
shelter in time. Therefore he dodged behind a rock 
and faced them. 

Kesting his gun upon the rock, he began a fusil- 
lade. But the unerring aim that had so often served 
him before seemed useless now. Eight shots the out- 
law fired and every one of them missed. Meanwhile 
the posse was coming steadily toward him. 

Discouraged at his failure, realizing that his luck 
had deserted him, the bandit made his last dash for 
freedom. He turned and boldly ran into the open in 
the direction of a wheat field. 

A dozen shots rang out, but he went on unharmed. 
It almost seemed that he would reach the field in safe- 
ty when suddenly two shots rang out. 

The aim was sure and true. Almost witli the 
crack of the rifle the hunted man threw his hands high 
in the air and fell to the ground. He was up in a mo- 
ment only to fall again. His les was useless. 

His marvelous courage did not deserl him. Slow- 
ly and painfully he commenced crawling toward the 

204 



haven. On every side of him the bullets threw up 
the earth, but he kept steadily on and at last disap- 
peared amidst the waving grain. 

The sun had set while the fight was going on, and 
now darkness was rapidly approaching. A consulta- 
tion was held and it was decided that further pursuit 
was useless for the night. It was decided to surround 
the field and wait for the coming of morning. 

Meanwhile Sheriff Gardner, with Merchant Po- 
liceman Stuffer and Gemmein of Spokane, together 
with other reenforcements, had arrived. They placed 
themselves about the field so that no chance for escape 
was possible and waited. 

Twilight came and night followed. All about 
was darkness and silence. Suddenly they who stood 
about heard a single shot from the center of the field. 
It rang out clearly and distinctly on the night air and 
then all was still again. What it meant no one knew. 
Until the next morning it remained a mystery. 

But when the light came bringing the promise 
of another day of Summer the men started to examine 
the field. Then the shot was explained. For after 
a few moments' search the party came upon the dead 
body of Harry Tracy, bandit, killed by his own hand 
Cold in death he lay there in the midst of the grain, 
dyed red with blood, his face turned upward toward 
the sky. His left hand thrown over his head held a 
45-caliber Colt's revolver — the weapon with which he 
had ended his life. His thumb still lay upon the 

205 



trigger. The other hand lay on his body and still 
grasped the barrel of the famous 30-30 Winchester 
rifle. 

About the wounded leg a strap had been -tightly 
fastened. Despite this, the bleeding had continued 
and realizing that his condition was hopeless he had 
gven up at last. 

After a dispute over the reward they took his 
body to Davenport to await final disposition. The 
top of the head was badly shattered, but the lips still 
smiled. 

So, after a life of wild deeds Harry Tracy reaped 
their reward in a wild death." 

The writer kept as near the scene of activity as 
possible in order to know how the last battle went. 
The officers, assistants and deputies were nervous and 
in a great strain. Within the three days three men 
had been killed, two mysteriously disappeared, sever- 
al persons held up, ten wounded, and five persons so 
badly scared that they were useless and quit the siege. 
The writer was strictly neutral, but inwardly hoped 
Harry Tracy would quit killing and disappear. 

On the morning of August 6th, before it was 
quite dawn, down the slope of the west road leading 
to Fellowes were seen, by the writer, three riders go- 
ing at full speed, or such speed as jaded horses could 
assume. Using a glass it was easily seen that one was 
one of the big Indians, heretofore mentioned. He 
was haggard and dilapidated. His clothing was torn 

206 



into shreds, his body covered with the stains of blood 
and mire and his head bandaged. 

It was Jim Tracy. 

The other two riders were the two Indian lads. 
It was difficult to make them out, for their condition 
was the climax of dishabille. However there was no 
mistaking who they were. They were Florence Cor- 
son and Minnie O'Rell. 

A mile down the road came a posse of ten men 
headed by Sheriff Gardner riding slowly. The horses 
of both groups were jaded. They would meet, if both 
parties continued, around the jutting ledge where 
the writer sat. Neither party could see the other. At 
first thought some warning was arranged as being 
thought honorable to those who had been such inter- 
esting and sublime companions. There was no time, 
the Sheriff had seen them. Inwardly, it was a scene 
of pathetic rejection lasting for a life. Jim, to pro- 
tect the women, leveled his gun. It was no use. It 
seemed like the last brave and devoted stand. Gard- 
ner called out: 

"Surrender, your brother is dead, we do not want 
you." 

With a groan Jim Tracy slid from his horse and 
threw his gun into the grass. The heart of Jim Tracy 
for the first time in twenty years, faltered and failed. 

With a loud scream Florence Corson fell from her 
horse, exclaiming: 

"Harry! Oh, Harry!" 

207 



Sheriff Gardner, who had dismounted and came 
forward caught her before she struck the stony 
ground. 

Only Minnie O'Kell remained firm. She was cov- 
ered with dirt and her clothes torn to ribbons and her 
entire person begrimed and wet. Her hair, which 
was as black as the feathers of a raven, was down 
about her ears and neck; and, it was matted, dirty 
and damp with rain and dew. Her handsome face 
was as pale as death. The piercing black eyes shone 
like gleams of electric fire; but, despite her disheveled 
condition she sat upright in her saddle, upon her 
brown wiry little broncho, which from great exertion 
breathed as though at a country fair 'free for all'; 
a*id, with a dramatic wave of her stout right arm with 
flashing eyes she cried out in a strong and as manly 
a tones as one could wish: 

"Show me; Hank Tracy is not dead till I see him 
cold and help bury him!" 

Jim straightened up, looked over where his rifle 
lay, and began to hitch his belt. The brother began 
to recover under the magnetic inspiration of the irre- 
pressible Minnie O'Rell. 

Florence Tracy began to revive, and, half con- 
scious, as she was supported by Sheriff Gardner, she 
exclaimed: 

"Minnie, you are an angel. Take me to him — 
Oh, please do! He is not dead! Harry! My husband 
— He must not die!" 



208 



Men seldom see more pathetic scenes. This beau- 
tiful blond woman, pale as death, from exposure, anx- 
iety and real want. — All begrimed and covered with 
lacerations of rocks, briars and bush, still clung to 
her hero! However delicate of form and mind, women, 
such as she, worship to defend, and never to desert. 

Gardner said soothingly: 

"Fll take you to him. He may not be dead." 
Gardner said he never saw such game, and al- 
lowed Jim Tracy and the two devoted women com- 
plete freedom. He never took them to Harry Tracy. 
For some reason or other he did not keep his word. 
The question is an open one: 

IS HAEEY TEACY DEAD? 

~Ko one could identify the body as well as Jim 
Tracy, Florence Tracy, and Minnie O'Kell. They 
went to Fellowes, Creston, Davenport, and Spokane, 
but the body was secretly disposed of, and it yet re- 
mains to be seen by whom the ruse was performed if 
there was a ruse. If not, then the brother, the wife 
and Minnie O'Kell, are in quiet waiting at Seattle 
simply for the sequel of -the tragic events herein rec- 
orded wholly. Is there a reward due some one for 
the 

"BODY OF HAEEY TEACY, DEAD OE ALIVE!" 



209 



CHAPTER XXII. 

IS THE NOTED BANDIT HAEEY TRACY REAL- 
LY DEAD?— HEAVY REWARDS SHOW UN- 
USUAL AVARICE.— THE FORTUNE- 
TELLER AND HER STRANGE IN- 
SIGHT INTO EVENTS.— THE 
PRAYER BOOK AND THE 
"HIDDEN TREASURES." 



When the idea began to dawn upon the writer 
that the celebrated bandit was really dead, it must 
be admitted, that, having seen so much of him, and 
formed somewhat of an attachment, the picturesque- 
ness and grand fascinating effects of the wild country 
of the Cascades began to fade out. Those who gave 
fantastic and animating effects to the surroundings 
were now either gone or subdued in sadness. The 
race, to them, so awful in its weirdness and casual- 
ties was done. The scene was changed from fierce 
conflict to silent death. 

After all nothing so adds to surrounding effects 
and events as men. They make or mar the established 
activities of natural surroundings. 

The whole canopy of the heavens may be decked 

210 



in the celestial grandeur of the stellar hosts; the 
solemn massiveness of the colossal ranges of the most 
fantastic piles of mountain heights, and the teeming 
richness of forests and streams, all combining to make 
nature reveal her power — and yet, all still stand un- 
honored, unseen and uninspired, without the quick- 
ening power of the small God — man, to revere, won- 
der at and appreciate the beauty of it — stand in awe 
of it — utilize it, and if need be desecrate it. 

After all, while God is the maker of all, man is 
the finisher. Xature throws down her "raw material," 
but the hand of man turns out the "finished product." 
This is true of every condition. Once the hand of 
man has touched the work of the Omnipotent and 
man alone then can keep up the effect. A beautiful 
park shows the deftness of using the powers of nature 
and art in conjunction; but the enchanting spot never 
makes even a respectable wilderness thereafter. Man 
and nature are good partners, but man usually breaks 
faith with the best associations. 

Here, in the dramatic mountain of dashing 
streams, verdant trees, fragrant plants, pondrous 
heights, fearful depths, and awful steeps — Here, the 
animation was, to the writer, the phantastic, pictur- 
esque and gallant desperado. 

It may seem to the reader that it was a poor 
light by which to read the stern laws of effect, but 
souls are not all alike. Some men make much com- 
panionship out of dogs, ancl some women of lizards 

211 



and snakes, while others prefer ministers of the gospel 
or bandits. Some lessons are like dull razors, gash 
your face while refusing to clip the beard. These 
lessons are chiefly from men — generally bad men — 
or bad in spots — they cut your very heart away from 
the lauded good, and leave you to guess at the "ulti- 
mate good." 

The writer sought to escape from ennui by being 
occupied in showing every possible consideration for 
the wife of the supposed to be dead bandit. At first 
her anguish was acute. Quiet and isolated quarters 
were procured at Davenport to await the identification 
of her husband. 

Heretofore it has been suggested as being remark- 
able that Jim Tracy, Minnie O'Rell and Florence 
Tracy were not apprehended. It is still more remark- 
able that not even a surveilance of consequence was 
kept upon them at any time after the reported sui- 
cide. The wife came and went at pleasure and so did 
the other two. Neither ever saw the body of the al- 
leged dead desperado. And, stranger still, after a 
circumstance the writer is constrained to relate, no 
anxiety of much moment seemed to be shown by any 
of Tracy's associates as to the alleged remains. The 
face was mutilated as though on purpose to deceive. 
It was to their interest, if he was still alive, to let 
the reward be paid and all forgotten. 

The circumstance referred to is as follows: 

The morning of the Reported suicide the wife was 

212 



frantic, as heretofore related. She persisted in see- 
ing her dead husband. Amid conflicting reports of 
the whereabouts of the body, she went to Davenport. 
Her quarters were at a quiet boarding-house and iso- 
lated from the all-prevalent curious. Some care was 
given her person by Minnie O'Kell and other kindly 
persons at the house, so that she soon became, after 
a change of attire, presentable, but continued to in- 
sist upon ascertaining where the remains of her hus- 
band was. About noon a woman came to the door 
of the cottage, and persisted in telling the fortunes 
of the inmates. At first she was given the negative, 
but, after her insistence that she knew of grave secrets 
of much concern, coming to her from reciprocals of 
the unknowable, she was admitted. She was attired 
about the same as the usual mendicant, wandering and 
homeless, Indians so common near the Eeservations. 
Yet, something in her demeanor suggested an intellig- 
ence of no common order. After she had cast about 
for some time, she carefully looked at the three wom- 
en assembled in the suppressed little group. There 
were Mrs. Florence Tracy, Minnie O'Rell and a young 
woman who had volunteered much to the comfort and 
appearance of the now transformed Indian lads. The 
woman scanned the faces closely, and, finally, settled 
upon the sad and tearful face of the wife and said: 

"It is you whose future I must relate. It must 
be done at once, as it may lighten your burden." 

This was said in right solemn and measured tones, 

213 



much to the fashion of those who pretend to deal with 
the spiritual and occult arts. 

"Oh, please pardon me. I have completed all," 
and here the wife's tears choked her voice. 

"Come, — See me alone — come." Here the strange 
dispenser of "futures" half lead the tearful Florence 
towards an open door. The kindly hostess insisted 
on their going into the apartment together. They 
were gone perhaps a half hour, and when the wife 
emerged with her "confessor." She was transformed. 
Her every act thereafter was purely perfunctory and 
mechanical. There seemed in her eyes to be a gleam 
of the future and no somber drapery of the past. In- 
quiries about the remains were made, to be sure, but, 
all in all, she was thereafter a mystery to the writer, 
but possibly not to her intimates. She still shed some 
tears, but they looked more like sun-showers than de- 
luges. 

Stranger still the delver into mystery next sin- 
gled out the writer. 

Now, it ever was a superficial spirit of aversion 
the "wise" have of fortune tellers and circuses. We 
seldom care to tell that we believe the former or have 
actually seen the latter — or, indeed paid for either. 

There rests a soothing desire to hang on to the 
slender thread of a half-read destiny. "Fear, J. raud, 
and flattery" are dangerous alchemist chemicals. 
Bravely enough one must not refuse. This is what 
happened: 

214 



From the inner recesses of her prehistoric garb 
the woman produced a flat leather case — such as bills 
and notes are carried in by a speculating broker, some 
damaged in the "Pit." 

"Your fortune is told/* she began at once; "in 
this book. Inside is a sealed statement. It shows 
you, in connection with the papers you already have 
from a man named, (Here she hesitated for effect), 
Harry Tracy where and how to find the "hidden treas- 
ures." 

"What course should be pursued?" was asked as 
the mystery began to deepen. 

"Several sealed instruments will reveal to you 
every step to be taken. Like the ^broken slate' of 
Salem, you put the parts together and it will all read 
clearly." 

This was said with a sly laugh, which revealed 
much astute Indian or a well devised and improved 
one. 

"When should I proceed?" was asked mystifiedly. 

"At your lesure. But, go to Seattle before you 
open anything. There, in absolute privacy, follow 
your instructions as given before by Tracy and now 
by these papers. Beware of pursuit, disclosures, con- 
fidents, carelessness or any inadvertency. Be every 
inch master of yourself. You are trusted of all. You 
have been faithful to all without violating the law. 
You must not betray any or deviate one iota from the 
course prescribed. If you do — well that is not .for 

315 



me to suggest — If you are equal to the trust go, and 
may God speed you wealth untold — power, and — act, 
that is all!" 

The woman did not look like a sibyl when she ut- 
tered this in a dramatic murmer. She reminded one 
of the figure of an Egyptian Goddess, so distinct were 
her outlines of a perfect throat; clear dark eyes, heavi- 
ly fringed; rounded bust; delicate glossy raven black 
hair and head of contour surpassingly refined and 
shapely. The writer wondered she had not looked so 
strikingly refined and shapely before, and exclaimed: 

"You are not a fortune teller?" 

"Will you tell what I am, then?" 

"No." 

"Then take people you can not explain for what 
they seem to be." This was said calmly. 

"Where did you get your information?" 

"What is that to you? If I deal in hidden things, 
and reveal to you the past, present and future why 
should you complain? Simply pay for your knowl- 
edge, and be content." She took her pay with evi- 
dent unconcern. 

"But, I am now in doubt." 

"Never mind your doubts. The more people are 
told of spiritual things the more doubts they have. 
Get at the material things there in your hands and 
do not ask too many questions." 

This was said while her eyes wore averted. 

She spoke quietly, earnestly — almost sadly. 

216 



"What should I do first?" 

"Go to the express office. There you will find a 
small Prayer Book with the picture of a little girl on 
the inside of the cover. Bring it here to me at once. 
Your messages to the Press association at Seattle 
brought forth results. The Prayer Book is sent by 
them to you as you directed." 

"How do you know all this?" I asked spellbound. 

"What did you come into this room for? To learn 
what you already knew? No! You came to know 
something new. If you have it pay for it and do as 
you are bid." Again the unmoved but agreeable smile 
of suppressed sadness. 

This was said while the now, to me most enchant- 
ing young Indian woman looked as noble and calm as 
a piece of perfect marble statuary. 

"Will you remain here?" I said rising. 

"Yes, I will tell some unimportant fortunes while 
you are gone." This last remark with a quiet but 
knowing smile. 

"Now," she said, earnestly and in a whisper, as 
her brows contracted and her eyes rested on mine with 
intensity, "be most careful and guarded in all you do. 
Nothing is to be told of this interview. Easy to tell 
anything and nothing. You understand. Go quick- 
ly." 

True enough, the Prayer Book was there as the 
fortune teller said. In a quarter of an hour the writ- 
er was back at the house, and fortune telling was pro- 



21? 



gressing admirably. No one now would believe that 
death had traversed the paths of any. 

"I got the package/' I said. 

She looked at Florence, and said: 

"Come here, I must see you again." 

She reached for the package. I drew it back and 
held it firmly. 

"Well done. You have followed instructions, and 
now behave most honorably. You will do." 

As she said this she seemed much pleased, and 
resumed: 

"I desire to see you and this, poor girl together. 
Come in here." 

She seemed to command all, and, as soon as the 
door was closed she said: 

"Your friend refuses to hand me the Prayer 
Book." 

The half -sad wife smiled and said: 

"Let her have it. It is my wish. You have done 
as you agreed." 

The fortune teller left. The company disbanded 
with more than formal regrets. The writer proceeded 
with his instructions as far as able, but the secret of 
it must remain untold; and, so must the conjectures 
as to the strange suicide. Avarice for rewards, danger 
of disclosures by relatives and friends, the writer's 
promises of honor, and many other coincidences deter 

218 



us from making comments or suggesting anything in 
the way of disclosures. 

Nothing but the '^hidden treasures" is certain to 
disclose the sequel of the strange ending of the won- 
derful bandit, 

HAEEY TEACY. 

(THE) END) 



219 



INDEX 



Preface Pages 3 to 7 

CHAPTER ONE. Pages 9 to 20 

How a Celebrated Criminal Spent His Boyhood. 
The Influence of Environments. 

CHAPTER TWO. Pages 21 to 27 

Wherein the Attorney for HARRY TRACY Tells the Story 

of His first Murder. 
And Where He Rejoices In Victories Over the Minions of 

the Law. 

CHAPTER THREE. Pages 28 to 37 

Events Told of Earlier in POINT of Time than the Murder 
of HAY. 

Relation of Matters in Alaska. 

Death of SOAPY SMITH. 

A Fearful Battle, Wherein JIM and HARRY TRACY Tri- 
umph. 

CHAPTER FOUR Pages 38 to 45 

TRACY Separates from FLORENCE CORSON. 
Robs With PAT CROWE, is Locked Up. 

CHAPTER FIVE. Pages 46 to 52 

TRACY Tried and Convicted. 
Makes a Break for Liberty, 
A Wonderful Escape. 



Index — Continued 

CHAPTER SIX. Pages 53 to 60 

HARRY TRACY Gets Back to San Francisco and Marries 
MINNIE O'RELL, Former Friend of His, Under 
Name of JAMES ANTHONY. 

CHAPTER SEVEN. Pages 61 to 65 

How Two Wives Can be True to One Husband. 
HARRY TRACY Again Back at Portland Jail. 
A Desperate Battle With Officers. 

CHAPTER EIGHT. Pages 66 to 71 

How TRACY Met MERRILL. 
What the Wives Where Doing. 
How the Escape Was Planned. 
What He Thought of Prison Life. 

CHAPTER NINE. Pages 72 to 83 

The First Daring Deeds of HARRY TRACY and DAVE 
MERRILL After Their Escape From the Salem 
Prison, June 9th, 1902. 

CHAPTER TEN. Pages 84 to 91 

Surrounded by 250 Soldiers, and 100 Officers and Citizens. 
Marvelous Escape. 

TRACY and Confederates Show Nerve and Wonderful Ac- 
tivity. 
Defies the Law. 

CHAPTER ELEVEN. Pages 92 to 97 

The Fugitives Reach Washington. 

Fight a battle With Posse at Salmon Creek and Again Set 
Officers to Flight. 



Index — Continued 

CHAPTER TWELVE. Pages 98 to 108 

The Shooting of DAVE MERRILL, and HARRY TRACY'S 

Explanation of the Affair. 
The Real Reason of the Shooting. 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN. Pages 109 to 119 
TRACY Enters Olympia. 
Sees His Wives. 

Has a Narrow Escape, and Quits Olympia. 
TRACY Takes a Lay-off to Rest Up. 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN. Pages 120 to 127 
One Success Encourages Further Deeds of Daring. 
TRACY Captures a Launch and Takes a Voyage. 
Shows Great Nerve and Daring. 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN. Pages 126 to 127 

City of Seattle all Aghast at TRACY'S Audacity. 
Runs the Gauntlet Several Times as Though for Love of 

Adventure. 
Puts in the Glorious Fourth. 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN. Pages 137 to 143 
How TRACY Panned to Get Back at His Pursuers. 
Gets Even With Sheriff CANFIELD. 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. Pages 144 to 158 
A Chapter of Real Tragedy, and Much Amusement and 

Actual Fun. 
TRACY Shows More Versatility and Skill than Ever. 
Trips up Police. 
Shows Audacity in Demands, and Gets Beyond Harm as 

Usual. 



Index — Continued 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. Pages 159 to 117 
HARRY TRACY on Law, Order, Love and Bullets. 
Has Maxims as Quaint as Sanclio Panza. 
TRACY Theorizes on Men and a Hereafter. 
His Tribute to Christianity and Goodness. 

CHAPTER NINETEEN. Pages 178 to 184 

TRACY and the Writer are Fired on by Reckless Posse. 
The Bandit's Alertness Save Both From Harm. * 
A Hot Battle Follows in Which TRACY Disables the En- 
tire Posse. 

CHAPTER TWENTY. Pages 185 to 194 

How the Governor of Colorado Pardoned the Wrong Man. 
One of HARRY TRACY'S Adroit, Audacious and" Deft 
Tricks. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE. Pages 195 to 209 

HARRY TRACY Against the World. Unequal. 
Deeds of Desperation and Fortitude. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO. Pages 210 to 219 
Is the Noted Bandit HARRY TRACY Really Dead? 
Heavy Rewards Show Unusual Avarice. 
The Fortune Teller and Her Strange Insight Into Events. 
Tlie Prayer Book and the "Hidden Treasures." 

THE END. 



